And dreams in their development have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy; They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts, They take a weight from off our waking toils, They do divide our being.
Category: Inspirational
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[Poetry] is the lava of the imagination whose eruption prevents an earthquake.
But words are things; and a small drop of ink, Falling, like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.
Men have conceived a twofold use of sleep; it is a refreshing of the body in this life, and a preparing of the soul for the next.
Dreams take us to levels we would otherwise be afraid to strive for.
If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, infinite.
And yet, as angels in some brighter dreams Call to the soul when man doth sleep, So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes, And into glory peep.
I belong to an ancient, idle, wild, and useless tribe… I am a storyteller.