“We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.”

“Why can’t you remember your Shakespeare and forget the third-raters. You’ll find what you’re trying to say in him- as you’ll find everything else worth saying. 'We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with sleep.''- 'Fine! That’s beautiful. But I wasn’t trying to say that. We are such stuff as manure is made on, so let’s drink up and forget it. That’s more my idea.”

“Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.”

“And yet, and yet, in these our ghostly lives,Half night, half day, half sleeping, half awake,How if our waking life, like that of sleep,Be all a dream in that eternal lifeTo which we wake not till we sleep in death”

“What did Shakespeare say? Or little lives are rounded with a sleep.”

“Fer in our dreams we find ourselves. Who we were. Who we are. Who we can become. Sleep. Dream.”