People think dreams aren't real just because they aren't made of matter, of particles. Dreams are real. But they are made of viewpoints, of images, of memories and puns and lost hopes.

For love is no part of the dreamworld. Love belongs to Desire, and Desire is always cruel.

You hurt. It's okay. I hurt too. Hold my hand.

I move from dreamer to dreamer, from dream to dream, hunting for what I need. Slipping and sliding and flickering through the dreams; and the dreamer will wake, and wonder why this dream seemed different, wonder how real their lives can truly be.

I must confess, I have always wondered what lay beyond life, my dear.Yeah, everybody wonders. And sooner or later everybody gets to find out.

I walk across the dreaming sands under the pale moon: through the dreams of countries and cities, past dreams of places long gone and times beyond recall.

You will forget. Death or life will take him from your minds. I know, whispered Despair, in her distant, empty voice. But I shall remember him.

You lived what anybody gets, Bernie. You got a lifetime. No more. No less.

The only reason people die, is because EVERYONE does it. You all just go along with it.It's RUBBISH, death. It's STUPID. I don't want nothing to do with it.