Flames burn so long as they are fed. Rivers rage so long as it rains. The sun rises so long as the earth rotates. Prayers are answered so long as they are uttered sincerely. Hope exists so long as there is a new day. Miracles never cease so long as there is faith. Love endures so long as kindness rules all actions. Dreams thrive so long as they are pursued. Never give up.
When the Deep Purple falls,Over sleepy garden walls, And the stars begin to flicker in the sky,Thru the mist of a memoryYou wander back to me,Breathing my name with a sigh.In the still of the night,Once again I hold you tight, Tho' you're gone, your love lives onWhen moonlight beams.And as long as my heart will beatLover, we'll always meetHere in my Deep Purple dreams.
All of us have failed to match our dream of perfection. I rate us on the basis of our splendid failure to do the impossible. If I could write all my work again, I'm convinced I could do it better. This is the healthiest condition for an artist. That's why he keeps working, trying again: he believes each time that this time he will do it, bring it off. Of course he won't.
Adventure is about what we do; not what we plan, strategize or dream about. Adventure begins with “what ifs” and “why nots.” “What if I were to step out to chase that dream? Why not take the first steps and see what happens? When we step through the doorway of adventure our life is suddenly worth the living. And we experience life as it was meant to be.
Think about your dreams. Think of every detail of what you want to manifest. Imagine every person included in your plans. Sense all the emotions that you want to happen when your dreams come true. Visualize where will you be when your dreams already happened. Breathe the air where you want to manifest it. Dream. Imagine. Believe. There's no more truer than this. It is what it is.
When you wake up from a dream you have only a few precious moments before the details of the dream begin to dissipate and the memory fades.Not all dreams are significant or worth remembering.But the ones that are . . . happen again.So, wait for the dream to return. And never be afraid. Instead, consider it an opportunity to learn something profound and possibly wondrous about yourself.
I had a dream about you. You were a finger food salesman, and I was a man with no fingers who sold wearable silverware (called Silverwear). Through a hand gesture, you indicated you were number one, and then you tried stabbing me with your index finger. Then I insulted your grandma and stabbed you with my eating utensil. What I did was wrong—I should never have insulted your grandma.
Can you hear the dreams crackling like a campfire? Can you hear the dreams sweeping through the pine trees and tipis? Can you hear the dreams laughing in the sawdust? Can you hear the dreams shaking just a little bit as the day grows long? Can you hear the dreams putting on a good jacket that smells of fry bread and sweet smoke? Can you hear the dreams stay up late and talk so many stories?
When you're young, you think everything you do is disposable. You move from now to now, crumpling time up in your hands, tossing it away. You're your own speeding car. You think you can get rid of things, and people too—leave them behind. You don't yet know about the habit they have, of coming back.Time in dreams is frozen. You can never get away from where you've been.
I had a dream about you, you were at your old house walking around. When I asked what you were doing you explained to me that you were planning out your heaven, this was the happiest you had ever been and when you passed you where going to come back here. I woke up thinking how beautiful that was and I was filled with hope!
I'd known since girlhood that I wanted to be a book editor. By high school, I'd pore over the acknowledgments section of novels I loved, daydreaming that someday a brilliant talent might see me as the person who 'made her book possible' or 'enhanced every page with editorial wisdom and insight.' Could I be the Maxwell Perkins to some future Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Wolfe?
Sometimes I wait at the bottom of those dark stairs, I sit at the bottom of the stairs, I wait beyond the bottom of the stairs and listen to the sounds my wife and children make as they sleep, the sounds our animals make as they step carefully through our dreams and out the other side to polished floor and cold window. Sometimes I wait so long I become unsure if I am asleep, or awake, or dead.
If you love something, you find a way to have it in your life. Opposers may take away your means and tools, but you simply turn to crude replacements, fashioning them from scraps if necessary. Threats only make you steal moments of secrecy to satisfy your love. And if it means but a morsel here and there, you accept each crumb gladly because nothing else can even begin to satisfy your hunger.
I think that love is stronger than habits or circumstances. I think it is possible to keep yourself for someone for a long time, and still remember why you were waiting when she comes at last.... I would enter your sleep if I could, and guard you there, and slay the thing that hounds you, as I would if it had the courage to face me in fair daylight. But I cannot come in unless you dream of me.
I had a dream about you. You were crying, and your tears were so salty I decided to collect your sadness to sprinkle on potato chips. I thought we could start a business. I would make potato chips, I would make you sad, and you would cry onto the chips and season them for consumption. I thought a good name for the chips was the reason you always cry, and that is how Love Chips came into existence.
