sandman

[Dream] I do not want a grape.[Desire] I could make you want one.

Never trust the storyteller. Only trust the story.

Is there a word for forgetting the name of someone when you want to introduce them to someone else at the same time you realize you've forgotten the name of the person you're introducing them to as well?""No.

But we do not need to recount every sermon and eulogy. After all, you were there.

I am not in my gallery and neither do I hold your sigil. Will you speak to me?

For love is no part of the dreamworld. Love belongs to Desire, and Desire is always cruel.

King shrugged and looked back at Harlen. "Please tell me you have a plan. Because my baby girl really likes to color with me.

Everything created has a beginning, Destiny of the Endless...as everything created has an end.

Of course, the truth is that no one likes change. People in hell not only refuse to leave it, they invite you in, too. Even people who have blasted the other lives that touched their own blasted lives proudly declare in old age that they would not change a thing -- all that cursing and screaming was their life, by God, and it is not possible to imagine any other. Change introduces unpredictability, uncertainty, a universe of disorder. Right before an amoeba splits in two, it says to itself, uh uh, no way, I ain't gonna do that, nope.

I walk across the dreaming sands under the pale moon: through the dreams of countries and cities, past dreams of places long gone and times beyond recall.

I move from dreamer to dreamer, from dream to dream, hunting for what I need. Slipping and sliding and flickering through the dreams; and the dreamer will wake, and wonder why this dream seemed different, wonder how real their lives can truly be.

You hurt. It's okay. I hurt too. Hold my hand.

People think dreams aren't real just because they aren't made of matter, of particles. Dreams are real. But they are made of viewpoints, of images, of memories and puns and lost hopes.

The Agora had fallen, too. Vince turned the radio off, dismissing what they'd just heard, and merged onto I-87. A little shriek of madness sounded in the back of his brain, but he said, with admirable calm considering, "Seriously, love, I think we've got this.

To be Despair. It is a portrait. Only close your eyes and feel.

He said, "Were he only like his sister__hat a difference that would make! For there never was such a sweet and gentle lady! I hear her footsteps, as she goes about the world. I hear the swish-swish-swish of her silken gown and the jingle-jangle of the silver chain about her neck. Her smile is full of comfort and her eyes are kind and happy! How I long to see her!" "Who, sir?" asked Paramore, puzzled. "Why, his sister, John. His sister.

For some folks death is release, and for others death is an abomination, a terrible thing. But in the end, I'm there for all of them.

I must confess, I have always wondered what lay beyond life, my dear.Yeah, everybody wonders. And sooner or later everybody gets to find out.