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Every dreamer knows that it is entirely possible to be homesick for a place you’ve never been to, perhaps more homesick than for familiar ground.
Judith Thurman (via words-and-coffee)
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She started writing notes and keeping them under her pillow, and then she started writing them on her pillowcase, hoping they would help her have better dreams. And if she couldn’t sleep, she could just read them and be reminded of something so stunningly beautiful that her heart would swell and her bones would sigh and for just a second, the world would not seem like it was going to crush her.
Emily Brontë (via c-ovet)
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psych-facts
Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined.
Henry David Thoreau (via thatkindofwoman)
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I am a weak, ephemeral creature made of mud and dream. But I feel all the powers of the universe whirling within me.
Nikos Kazantzakis (via owls-love-tea)
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Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
Edgar Allan Poe, “The Raven” (via larmoyante)
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There is a language older by far and deeper than words. It is the language of bodies, of body on body, wind on snow, rain on trees, wave on stone. It is the language of dream, gesture, symbol, memory. We have forgotten this language. We do not even remember that it exists.
Derrick Jensen, from A Language Older Than Words (Chelsea Green Publishing, 2000)
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You know that place between sleep and awake, the place where you can still remember dreaming? That’s where I’ll always love you. That’s where I’ll be waiting.
J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan (via wethinkwedream)
Source: wethinkwedream
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I am dim and unknown; a phantom, sometimes seen, often not. Life is a dream, surely.
Virginia Woolf, from The Waves (via linguistry)
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“If a poet has a dream, it is not of becoming famous, but of being believed.”
Jean Cocteau
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I have dreamt in my life, dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas; they have gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind.
Emily Brontë Wuthering Heights 1847 (via winged-serpent)