Throw your heart out in front of you and then run ahead to catch it.

I love blues… And the blues is, well, you can describe blues as all the things I wanted to be but never got around to being… You know, woke up this morning blues was around my bed… At my breakfast, blues is in my bread. Blues is a feeling… Blues is a landlord knocking at the gate. Blues is a woman on a poor man’s mind. These are all definitions.

You’re an interesting species. An interesting mix. You’re capable of such beautiful dreams, and such horrible nightmares. You feel so lost, so cut off, so alone, only you’re not. See, in all our searching, the only thing we’ve found that makes the emptiness bearable, is each other.

Your own words are the bricks and mortar of the dreams you want to realize. Your words are the greatest power you have. The words you choose and the use establish the life you experience.

When I awoke today, suddenly nothing happened.
But in my dreams, I slew the dragon
And down this beaten path, and up this cobbled lane
I’m walking in my old footsteps once again.

Dreams are the touchstones of our character.

Things need not have happened to be true. Tales and dreams are the shadow truths that will endure when mere facts are dust and ashes, and forgot.

I find I’m so excited, I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it the excitement only a free man can feel, a free man at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain. I hope I can make it across the border. I hope to see my friend, and shake his hand. I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope.

The great thing about being an architect is you can walk into your dreams.

Dreams are the eraser dust I blow off my page.
They fade into the emptiness, another dark gray day.
Dreams are only memories of the plans I had back then.
Dreams are eraser dust and now I use a pen.

I don’t dream, but if I could, I would dream of you. Instead, I’ll have to offer you the next best thing. I’m jealous of the dreamers. They forget their bad thoughts and good thoughts equally, disposing of the night’s murmurings as they rise, shower, brush and floss. I keep my night thoughts with me. Did I say I was jealous of the dreamers? Well, I was until now. Now, I pity them for their loss, when I can recall my visions as clear as the daybreak I see after hours of darkness.

There is poetry in my awake-dreams, there is majesty and there is wonder. With eyes open and casting from chair to pillow to wall to sheets, I construct fantasies beyond the words I know how to mouth. You have been princess, goddess, heroine, all these and more in my wake-dreams, all these without my ever touching you, sliding the back of a hand across your hair or running a finger down your cheek. If the idealised you met the real you, I’m sure that you both would have a lot in common.

All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible.

Dreams are renewable. No matter what our age or condition there are still untapped possibilities within us and new beauty waiting to be born.

We live, as we dream—alone.

Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens.

Dreams pass into the reality of action. From the action stems the dream again; and this interdependence produces the highest form of living.

Commit yourself to a dream. Nobody who tries to do something great but fails is a total failure. Why? Because he can always rest assured that he succeeded in life’s most important battle — he defeated the fear of trying.

The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.

Build the dream with all your heart and before you know it you find that the dream is in fact building you.

Second thoughts have aborted more dreams than all the difficult circumstances, overwhelming obstacles, and dangerous detours fate ever could throw at you. Undermining your authenticity by succumbing to someone else’s second thoughts is a sinister, subtle, and seductive form of self-abuse.

Don’t be afraid of the space between your dreams and reality. If you can dream it, you can make it so.

We grow great by dreams. All big men are dreamers. They see things in the soft haze of a spring day or in the red fire of a long winter’s evening. Some of us let these great dreams die, but others nourish and protect them; nurse them through bad days till they bring them to the sunshine and light which comes always to those who sincerely hope that their dreams will come true.

Sometimes dreams alter the course of an entire life.

Dreams are as portals.

Is all that we see or seem / But a dream within a dream?

If your dream is a big dream, and if you want your life to work on the high level that you say you do, there’s no way around doing the work it takes to get you there.

To put your ideas into action is the most difficult thing in the world.

Hive queen: Computers, now—those things can pay attention. And their memory is neat, orderly, everything organized and findable.
Human: But they don’t dream.
Hive queen: No madness. Too bad.

There is nothing in the world so attractive as someone who will dream with us, merge their dreams with our own, clarify the path toward the actualization of the dream, and lock their arms into ours while walking the path.

Perhaps the ordinary dreams of the self are simple, but that doesn’t mean that the self is simple. Once it has learned to dream the double, the self arrives at this weird crossroad and a moment comes when one realizes that it is the double who dreams the self.

Most people never run far enough on their first wind to find out if they’ve got a second. Give your dreams all you’ve got and you’ll be amazed at the energy that comes out of you.