and, in parting from you now, thus much let me avow-
you are not wrong who deem that my days have been a dream;
yet if hope has flown away in a night, or in a day,
in a vision, or in none, is it therefore the less gone?
all that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream . .
. . those who dream by day are cognizant of many things
which escape those who dream only by night . . . . all that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream . . samuel beckett: . . we are all born mad. some remain so . . richard bach: . . what the caterpillar calls the end of the world
the master calls a butterfly . . jd salinger: . . boy, when you are dead, they really fix you up.
i hope to hell when i do die somebody has sense
enough to just dump me in the river or something.
anything except sticking me in a goddam cemetery.
people coming and putting a bunch of flowers on
your stomach on Sunday and all that crap.
who wants flowers when you are dead? nobody . . i am kind of paranoid in reverse . .
. . i suspect people of plotting to make me happy kevin spacey: . . i find it sad that by not talking about who i sleep with, that makes me
mysterious. there was a time when i would have been called a gentleman. . john steinbeck: . . in the souls of the people the grapes of wrath are filling
and growing heavy, growing heavy for the vintage . . . . man is the only kind of varmint that sets his
own trap, baits it, then steps in it . . . . one can find so many pains when the rain is falling . . . . time is the only critic without ambition . . anne rice: . . i can't help being a gorgeous fiend, it's just the card I drew . . tool: . . jesus christ, why don't you come save my life?
open my eyes and blind me with your light
a n d y o u r l i e s . . robert frost: . . a civilized society is one which tolerates
eccentricity to the point of doubtful sanity . . weezer: . . the world has turned and left me here
just where I was before you appeared
and in your place an empty space
has filled the void behind my face . . hawksley workman: . . wave and blow me one more kiss
you're a dead-eye baby, you never miss
there's not much else as sweet as this
i waved so hard i broke my wrist . . bjork: . . your flirt finds me out
teases the crack in me
smittens me with hope . . . . black night is falling
the sun is gone to bed
the innocent are dreaming
as you should, sleepy-head . . mr bungle: . . pin my ear to the wisdom post
hang me up and drain me dry
mend my shipwrecked spirit
lift the veil from my eyes . . . . i will kill for isolation
sacrifice the energy
to enjoy the breath of silence
when the blood comes naturally . . portishead: . . from this time, unchained
we’re all looking at a different picture
through this new frame of mind
a thousand flowers could bloom
move over, and give us some room . . . . i'm so tired of playing
playing with this bow and arrow
gonna give my heart away
leave it to all the girls to play
for i've been a temptress too long . . . . to pretend no one can find
the fallacies of morning rose
forbidden fruit, hidden eyes
courtesies that i despise in me
take a ride, take a shot now . . . . covered by the blind belief
that fantasies of sinful screens
bear the facts, assume the dye
end the vows no need to lie, enjoy
take a ride, take a shot now . . . . after time the bitter taste
of innocence decent or race
scattered seed, buried lives
mysteries of our disguise revolve
circumstance will decide . . . . wandering stars
for whom it is reserved
the blackness of darkness, forever . . . . those who have seen the needles eye, now tread
like a husk, from which all that was now has fled
and the masks, that the monsters wear
to feed, upon their prey . . unknown: . . i am that voice which is the faint
first, far-off sin within the saint
when of his humbleness he first
takes thought; and I become that thirst
which makes him drunken with his own
humbleness, and so casts him down
from the last painful stair that waits
his triumphing feet at heaven's gates . . the pixies: . . you're so pretty when you're unfaithful to me . . damien's message: good night to every little hour that you sleep tight, may it hold you through the winter of a longe night and keep you from the lonliness of yourself