Dreams are rough copies of the waking soul

Yet uncorrected of the higher will,

So that men sometimes in their dreams confess

An unsuspected, or forgotten, self;

-Since Dreaming, Madness, Passion, are akin

In missing each that salutory rein

Of reason, and the grinding will of man.

– Pedro Calderón de la Barca –

I had the feeling of slipping down a smooth bottomless pit…

It was the melancholy secret that reality can arouse desires but never satisfy them; that love begins with a human being but does not end in him; and that everything can be there: a human being, love, happiness, life — and that yet in some terrible way it is always too little, and grows ever less the more it seems.

– Erich Maria Remarque –

Ph : Jacques Henri Lartigue

And yet, and yet, in these our ghostly lives,

Half night, half day, half sleeping, half awake,

How if our waking life, like that of sleep,

Be all a dream in that eternal life

To which we wake not till we sleep in death

– Pedro Calderón de la Barca – Life Is a Dream