But I, being poor, have only my dreams. I have spread my dreams under your feet; tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.
Life moves out of a red flare of dreams into a common light of common hours, until old age bring the red flare again.
I wonder anybody does anything at Oxford but dream and remember, the place is so beautiful. One almost expects the people to sing instead of speaking. It is all like an opera.
Everything that man esteems Endures a moment or a day. Love's pleasure drives his love away, The painter's brush consumes his dreams.
Who dreamed that beauty passes like a dream? For these red lips, with all their mournful pride, Mournful that no new wonder may betide, Troy passed away in one high funeral gleam, And Usna's children died.
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
In dreams begins responsibility.
Take, if you must, this little bag of dreams, Unloose the cord, and they will wrap you round.
In dreams begin responsibilities.
Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days! Come near me, while I sing the ancient ways: Cuchulain battling with the bitter tide; The Druid, grey, wood-nurtured, quiet-eyed, Who cast round Fergus dreams, and ruin untold;
Dream, dream, for this is also sooth.