Louis Aragon Quotes

All life is a dream, and all dreams are dreams.

The dreams are the skeleton of all reality.

Mind is nothing but dreams and dreams - dreams of the past, dreams of the future, dreams of how things should be, dreams of great ambitions, achievements. Dreams and desires, that is the stuff mind is made of. But it surrounds you like a China Wall. And because of it the fish remains unaware of the ocean.

If this be to have sense, if to be awake Be but to see this bright, great sleep of things, For the rarer potion mine own dreams I'll take And for truth commune with imaginings

All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.

The real world is much smaller than the imaginary

Only in books the flat and final happens, Only in dreams we meet and interlock.

The mind was dreaming. The world was its dream.

How different would our perception of reality be if... we discarded the mundane events that cannot coexist with our dreams?

Everything is only a dream.

Who would ever give up the reality of dreams for relative knowledge?

I think reality is over-rated

Life and death are nothing but the mind. Years, months, days, and hours are nothing but the mind. Dreams, illusions, and mirages are nothing but the mind. The bubbles of water and the flames of fire are nothing but the mind. The flowers of the spring and the moon of the autumn are nothing but the mind. Confusions and dangers are nothing but the mind.

Your harshest truths are dreams, and your gentlest dreams are true.

That is a dream also; only he has remained asleep, while you have awakened; and who knows which of you is the most fortunate?

Dreams feel real while we're in them. It's only when we wake up that we realize something was actually strange.

No fiction, no myths, no lies, no tangled webs - this is how Irie imagined her homeland. Because homeland is one of the magical fantasy words like unicorn and soul and infinity that have now passed into language.

A single fantasy can transform a million realities.

Tonight, I've finally learned to tell fantasy from reality. And, knowing the difference, I choose fantasy.

How much of what we call 'reality' is actually out there or rather within our own head?

Just because it's a dream doesn't mean it's a lie.

Sometimes you wake up from a dream. Sometimes you wake up in a dream. And sometimes, every once in a while, you wake up in someone else's dream.

Dream delivers us to dream, and there is no end to illusion. Life is like a train of moods like a string of beads, and, as we pass through them, they prove to be many-colored lenses which paint the world their own hue. . . .

A fierce brief fusion which dreamers call real, and realists, an illusion; an insight like the flight of birds.

Brooklyn was a dream. All the things that happened there just couldn't happen. It was all dream stuff. Or was it all real and true and was it that she, Francie, was the dreamer?