H. P. Lovecraft Quotes

In his house at R'lyeh, dead Cthulu waits dreaming

Late at night when all the world is sleeping I stay up and think of you and I wish on a star that somewhere you are thinking of me too...Cause I'm dreaming of you tonight 'Til tomorrow I'll be holding you tight! And there's nowhere in the world I'd rather be than here in my room, dreaming about you and me.

She fell asleep, and it was a sleep as thin as the night clouds, dotted with dreams that came and went like the stars.

Then sleep the seasons, full of might; While slowly swells the pod, And rounds the peach, and in the night The mushroom bursts the sod. The winter comes: the frozen rut Is bound with silver bars; the white drift heaps against the hut; and night is pierced with stars.

He knows well the evening star, and once when he awoke, in a most distressful mood (some inward pain had made up that strange thing, an infant's dream), I hurried with him to our orchard plot, and he beheld the moon, and hushed at once. Suspends his sobs and laughs most silently. While his fair eyes, that swam with undropped tears, did glitter in the yellow moonbeam.

My soul is not asleep. It is awake, wide awake. It neither sleeps nor dreams, but watches, its eyes wide open far-off things, and listens at the shores of the great silence.

It is on the whole probably that we continually dream, but that consciousness makes such a noise that we do not hear it.

My imagination requires a judicious rein; I am afraid to let it loose, for it carries me sometimes into appalling places beyond the stars and beneath the world.

What if I travel so far away in my dreams that I can't get back in time to wake up?

Sometimes we don't know we're dreaming; we can't even fathom that we're asleep.

When you sleep, your dream world is as real to you as life, isn’t it?

I’ve always had dreams. When I was little, I’d go to sleep with my head on my hands, which were in fists like I was looking through a camera. I felt like sleep was the movies - just drifting off to the movies.

Now behind the eyes and secrets of the dreamers in the streets rocked to sleep by the sea, see the titbits and topsyturvies, bobs and buttontops, bags and bones, ash and rind and dandruff and nailparings, saliva and snowflakes and moulted feathers of dreams, the wrecks and sprats and shells and fishbones, whale-juice and moonshine and small salt fry dished up by the hidden sea.

There is something about talking in the night, with the shreds of sleep around your ears, with the silences between one remark and another, the town dark and dreaming beyond your own walls. It draws the truth out of you, straight from its little dark pool down there, where usually you guard it so careful, and wave your hands over it and hum and haw to protect people's feelings, to protect your own . . . You can bring out the jaggedest feelings - if you are my wife and know how to state them calm - into the night quiet. They will float there for consideration, harming no one.

The lights of stars that were extinguished ages ago still reaches us. So it is with great men who died centuries ago, but still reach us with the radiations of their personalities.

Our relationship with sleep is currently in crisis, but we're also living in a golden age of sleep science - revealing all the ways in which sleep and dreams play a vital role in our decision-making, emotional intelligence, cognitive function, and creativity. Every week, new research reveals how vital sleep is to our health, happiness, job performance, and relationships.

You know Sven? The man who takes care of the gym?' he asked. He waited till he got a nod from Nicholson. 'Well, if Sven dreamed tonight that his dog died, he'd have a very, very bad night's sleep, because he's very fond of that dog. But when he woke up in the morning, everything would be all right. He'd know it was only a dream.' Nicholson nodded. 'What's the point exactly?' The point is if his dog really died, it would be exactly the same thing. Only he wouldn't know it. I mean he wouldn't wake up till he died himself.

The tragedy of life doesn't lie in not reaching your goal. The tragedy lies in having no goal to reach. It isn't a calamity to die with dreams unfulfilled, but it is a calamity not to dream...It is not a disgrace not to reach the stars, but it is a disgrace to have no stars to reach for. Not failure, but low aim is sin.

Are you sure/That we are awake? It seems to me/That yet we sleep, we dream

And when night, guiding her bright train of stars, Throws o'er the sleeping world her gloomy veil, Lonely amidst the desert and the darkness, Musing upon the night's calm majesty; Wrapt up in quietness, with shade and silence, My soul more closely worshippeth Thy presence; With an internal day I feel enlighten'd, And hear a voice, which biddeth me to hope.

For all the toll the desert takes of a man it gives compensations, deep breaths, deep sleep, and the communion of the stars.

I fell into a sound sleep and dreamed that I was at a banquet back in Gion, talking with an elderly man who was explaining to me that his wife, whom he'd cared for deeply, wasn't really dead because the pleasure of their time together lived on inside him.