“If this be to have sense, if to be awakeBe but to see this bright, great sleep of things,For the rarer potion mine own dreams I'll takeAnd for truth commune with imaginings”

“I could not see my own cold light, but I imagined it to be shimmering brightly, with Death looming close by. After such a dream, how could it not?”

“When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see,For all the day they view things unrespected;But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee,And darkly bright are bright in dark directed.Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright,How would thy shadow's form form happy showTo the clear day with thy much clearer light,When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so!How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed madeBy looking on thee in the living day,When in dead night thy fair imperfect shadeThrough heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay!All days are nights to see till I see thee,And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.”

“Dream is not the thing you see in sleep but is that thing that doesn't let you sleep.”

“I am accustomed to sleep and in my dreams to imagine the same things that lunatics imagine when awake.”

“You’re afraid of imagination. And even more afraid of dreams. Afraid of the responsibility that begins in dreams. But you have to sleep, and dreams are a part of sleep. When you’re awake you can suppress imagination. But you can’t suppress dreams.”