We're All Time's Captives, Hostages

About Dreams. It Is Usually Taken For Granted That You Dream Of Something That Has Made A Particularly Strong Impression On You During The Day, But It Seems To Me It´s Just The Contrary. Often It´s Something You Paid No Attention To At The Time -- A Vague Thought That You Didn´t Bother To Think Out To The End, Words Spoken Without Feeling And Which Passed Unnoticed -- These Are The Things That Return At Night, Clothed In Flesh And Blood, And They Become The Subjects Of Dreams, As If To Make Up For Having Been Ignored During Waking Hours.

And So It Turned Out That Only A Life Similar To The Life Of Those Around Us, Merging With It Without A Ripple, Is Genuine Life, And That An Unshared Happiness Is Not Happiness.

When A Great Moment Knocks On The Door Of Your Life, It Is Often No Louder Than The Beating Of Your Heart, And It Is Very Easy To Miss It.

A Conscious Attempt To Fall Asleep Is Sure To Produce Insomnia, To Try To Be Conscious Of One's Own Digestion Is A Sure Way To Upset The Stomach. Consciousness Is A Poison When We Apply It To Ourselves. Consciousness Is A Light Directed Outward. It's Like The Headlights On A Locomotive—turn Them Inward And You'd Have A Crash.

The Whole Wide World Is A Cathedral; I Stand Inside, The Air Is Calm, And From Afar At Times There Reaches My Ear The Echo Of A Psalm.