“What is life if not the shadow of a fleeting dream?”
“What is this life? A frenzy, an illusion,A shadow, a delirium, a fiction.The greatest good's but little, and this lifeIs but a dream, and dreams are only dreams.”
“Coleridge wrote, "Dreams are no shadows, but the very substances and calamities of my life.”
“I sighed. "What is life but fleeting moments of happiness strung together on necklace of despair?”
“What does it mean when nightmares dream of peace? When shadows wish for light?”
“A dream itself is but a shadow.”