My dreams were at once more fantastic and agreeabl...

I am very averse to bringing myself forward in print, but as my account will only appear as an appendage to a former production, and as it will be confined to such topics as have connection with my authorship alone, I can hardly accuse myself of a personal intrusion.

My dreams were all my own I accounted for them to nobody they were my refuge when annoyed - my dearest pleasure when free.

The agony of my feelings allowed me no respite no incident occurred from which my rage and misery could not extract its food.

Old age realizes the dreams of youth: look at Dean Swift in his youth he built an asylum for the insane, in his old age he was himself an inmate.

Everybody past a certain age, regardless of how they look on the outside, pretty much constantly dreams of being able to escape from their lives.

People are so busy dreaming the American Dream, fantasizing about what they could be or have a right to be, that they're all asleep at the switch. Consequently we are living in the Age of Human Error.

Man, alone, has the power to transform his thoughts into physical reality man, alone, can dream and make his dreams come true.