Best 105 quotes in «daydreaming quotes» category

When I played pool I was like a good psychiatrist. I cured em of all their daydreams and delusions.

When you're drawing comics, you get very involved in how the story is going to develop and you spend more time daydreaming on that particular subject.

We dare not think that God is absent or daydreaming. The do nothing God...He's not tucked away in some far corner of the universe, uncaring, unfeeling, unthinking, uninvolved. Count on it, God intrudes in glorious and myriad ways.

Will you gather daydreams or will you gather wealth? How can you find your fortune when you cannot find yourself?

Vision without execution is daydreaming.

A certain amount of reverie is good, like a narcotic in discreet doses. It soothes the fever, occasionally high, of the brain at work, and produces in the mind a soft, fresh vapor that corrects the all too angular contours of pure thought, fills up the gaps and intervals here and there, binds them together, and dulls the sharp corners of ideas. But too much reverie submerges and drowns. Thought is the labor of the intellect, reverie it's pleasure. To replace thought with reverie is to confound poison with nourishment.

A fleeting second on someone's news feed, No dearth of meanings for those who read, Not my stories but 'tis what I think, I say I don't write poems, I just write dreams.

...and when he dies, cut him out in little stars, and the face of heaven will be so fine that all the world will be in love with night and pay no heed to the garish sun.

And the man who dreamt of flight has tripped and fallen in a hole.

But I look up above and see the sky With the moon and stars capturing my eye I know that you can see it too Cuz no matter where you are the sky remains true

Being crazy, for the rest of us, is a form of sanity.

You collect impressions from people, from life, from your own daydreams.

En medio de una conversación, aún en medio de una frase, mi mente se divorcia de la realidad y se va por su cuenta tras una palabra, un perfume, una visión, y con mucha frecuencia crea irrealidades absurdas.

(Dreams drain the spirit if we dream too long.)

Every Daydream-hope starts with little incentives !

Honesty can sometimes be so brutal to take in. It's usual to get so drowned in perceived idealism that you can't seem to separate it from honest reality. If, and when, you can separate the two, the gaiety of fantasy is destroyed

Give God a break: work for what you are praying for.

Her legs swing complete afternoons away.

How do you smuggle daydreams into reality?

How's daydreaming affecting nightmares?? Showing the light where is all dark!

I believe that unfulfilled frustrated people probably spend a lot of their lives in pure fantasy-dreaming. This can I am sure be a great source of consolation though not always harmless.

-Disculpe -le dijo él-. ¿Puede ayudarme? Me parece que me he perdido. Ella se sobresaltó. El hombre se encontraba medio en sombras, al lado de la portezuela abierta de su coche. -¿Eh...? -¿La he asustado? -preguntó. -No, no, en absoluto... -Perdone si... -No, no pasa nada. Es que venía pensando. -¿Tenía la mente en otra parte? -Eso es. -Conozco esa sensación -dijo el hombre, acercándose a ella-. Un pensamiento lleva a otro, después a otro, y antes de que uno se dé cuenta está a la mitad de una pequeña ensoñación. Perdone que me entrometa. -La realidad -puntualizó ella- siempre se entromete. Él rió.

He raised a hand in response and tossed the ear of corn into the wagon. Then he returned to his fantasy, imagining himself running the livery instead of working there, making the decisions, placing orders, selecting new horses, agreeing to board others, and hiring a boy to muck out the stalls and pitch hay. In his daydream, he no longer lived in the back room. He came home at night to a small house he’d bought with his earnings. Inside, a woman waited for him. A wife. In his fantasy her hair was as golden as the ear of corn he tossed into the wagon and her eyes as blue as the cloudless sky overhead. Catherine smiled at him and he could hear as well as see her say his name. “Jim! Welcome home.

I love letting my soul soar on a summer breeze, or getting entranced by the rhythm of the sea. It carries you off on its currents until you’re completely lost and then drops you back on the shores of reality with salt on your cheeks and grains of dreams running through your fingers like sand. It’s almost an occasional necessity – I guess because when you get completely, fantastically, dizzyingly lost you’re temporarily suspended between what has been and what could be. In those first moments when you come back up for air, or when you float back down to the ground, you’re living in the land of possibility, where you understand that reality can stretch just as far as you’re willing to dream.

I never had a childhood. Not like the rest of them anyway. I had a starting point from which I have never stopped running.

In my head, this world is so much more beautiful. If you ever catch me daydream, please, don’t wake me up.

I passed people shopping or walking their dogs, and young people, university students maybe, busy about their lives, so that the streets I walked seemed vibrant to me, more vibrant than my own. But then almost everywhere I went I imagined a place more accommodating of the life I wanted, as if happiness were a matter of streets or parks, as maybe to a point it is; and with R. away for so long I was accustomed to thinking of my real life existing in some distant place or future time, projecting forward in a way that I was afraid might keep me from living fully where I was.

I often think in music. I live my daydreams in music.

I passed people shopping or walking their dogs, and young people, university students maybe, busy about their lives, so that the streets I walked seems vibrant to me, more vibrant than my own. But then almost everywhere I went I imagined a place more accommodating of the life I wanted, as if happiness were a matter of streets or parks, as maybe to a point it is; and with R. away for so long I was accustomed to thinking of my real life existing in some distant place or future time, projecting forward in a way that I was afraid might keep me from living fully where I was.

Is daydreaming a distraction from work, or work a distraction from daydreaming?

I understand why you need to add a release valve and learn how to steer the balloon. But after that - what will you do with a better balloon?' ... A dreamy smile tugged at his lips. 'I'd fly away, of course.

Man, you look like you've never seen a gas station before! You zone out so much sometimes, it's like you're going to another world!

If a writer is daydreaming, leave them be. They could be plotting their next great story.

I've always felt that distant train whistles heard in the dead of night are the universe's way of letting us know the best days are neither ahead nor behind us...they're happening right now, cradled in the palms of our hands. But that doesn't change the fact that the whiskey, weed, and romance eventually runs out and the night will soon turn to day.

Niru, you're welcome to stay if you want, Ms. McConnell says to me without looking up from her desk. Without students in the classroom she is much smaller and more feminine. I stare at her legs visible beneath her desk and at the way her blonde hair falls about her face as she reads the New Yorker. Porn makes it look so easy, so casual, so routine. Older women are supposed to crave fresh young meat, to lick their pen tops absentmindedly while thinking about us, to squeeze their legs together in a good faith effort to keep from corrupting the younger generations. And I am supposed to stumble forward both confused and uncontrolled, pulled by my relentless desire like light towards a black hole. Except I am unmoved. I imagine Ms. McConnell naked, perched at the edge of her desk, legs crossed waiting for me to cross the room and give her what she needs. That's how they always say it, that they will take what they want, get what they need, that hardcore sex is good punishment for bad behavior. I wonder if it would set the record straight for me. It's nice outside, Ms. McConnell says, you should enjoy the day. Her stare makes me feel like she can read my thoughts and I am suddenly embarrassed.

No daydreaming. No music, film, art, creative thinking or business.

Not only should we encourage kids to daydream, but also to jump-in and build those dreams. Dreaming is largely lost among adults drowning in self-imposed realities.

Lying in bed and daydreaming was the best thing I did all day.

Now memories have an unusual way of coming back to you in the middle of a day.

Now that she had the diagnosis to explain her sense of reality, she sorted some of the chaotic jumble of thoughts and memories. "I'd feel funny having 'daydreamed' my way through whole seasons," Jo said, "but then I'd hear someone say, 'Time flies,' or 'How did it get to be three o'clock already?' and I'd think that everyone was like me.

Nightmares are seldom a foreshadowing of real events, but always a showing of real fears.

Puberty flicked a switch inside of them and dreams were replaced by hormones and college prep courses and varsity sports while I continued to look for faeries in the woods behind my house.

part of a daydream’s enticement was the illusion that she was helpless before its logic

People are often daydreamers which is why when you see something strange on your way, you must thank to it because it liberates you from the world of dreams by waking you up! Welcome to the world of reality, welcome to this very moment we are in!

She found herself imagining them hanging out in the backyard having barbecues and sitting together on the swing. The idea made her smile, although she kept it to herself.

She imagined herself whirling breathlessly beneath the flashing lights of some impossibly chic Manhattan disco. Suddenly, a hand touches her arm. She turns. ‘Pardon me,’ Mick Jagger says, 'I believe this next dance is mine.

She never felt like she belonged anywhere,except for when she was lying on her bed, pretending to be somewhere else.

The cost of oblivious daydreaming was always this moment of return

She knew that she had a tendency to allow her mind to wander, but surely that's what made the world interesting. One thought led to another, one memory triggered another. How dull it would be, she thought, not to be reminded of the interconnectedness of everything, how dull for the present not to evoke the past, for here not to imply there.

The day I became a writer it wasn't the day a whore paid me in sex in exchange for one of my books which happened often and more and more as time went on it wasn't the first time someone actually paid for one of my books which happens less and less as time goes on It was the day I realized that everything is created by man God, Satan, Judas, phobias, excrement, even death even women everything is created by man So I said to myself shit, let me make something let me tape together some words and sentences and prose and predicates and the residual shit that sticks to my ass after I wipe and compose a new kind of thing But then I realized that others had discovered this for themselves as well And suddenly the world became a jungle Where everyone eats each other alive And shits out the same shit