A Quote by Dana Burnet

The dreamer dies, but never dies the dream — © Dana Burnet
The dreamer dies, but never dies the dream

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Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.
Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings. Anaïs Nin I like not only to be loved, but also to be told I am loved. George Eliot Love is the voice under all silences, the hope which has no opposite in fear; the strength so strong mere force is feebleness: the truth more first than sun, more last than star.
Whenever someone dies, a part of the universe dies too. Everything a person felt, experience and saw dies with them, like tears in the rain.
To a father, when a child dies, the future dies; to a child when a parent dies, the past dies.
Man never dies, nor is he ever born; bodies die, but he never dies.
What is it that dies? A log of wood dies to become a few planks. The planks die to become a chair. The chair dies to become a piece of firewood, and the firewood dies to become ash. You give different names to the different shapes the wood takes, but the basic substance is there always. If we could always remember this, we would never worry about the loss of anything. We never lose anything; we never gain anything. By such discrimination we put an end to unhappiness. (118-119)
Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source.
He who dies before he dies does not die when he dies.
All I can think is that when you torment a person...the soul dies. When the soul dies, I suppose mercy dies, too.
A dreamer lives forever, And a toiler dies in a day.
Beauty plus pity-that is the closest we can get to a definition of art. Where there is beauty there is pity for the simple reason that beauty must die: beauty always dies, the manner dies with the matter, the world dies with the individual.
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.
When King Lear dies in act five, do you know what Shakespeare has written? He has written, 'He dies.' No more. No fanfare, no metaphor, no brilliant final words. The culmination of the most influential piece of dramatic literature is, 'He dies.' Now I am not asking you to be happy at my leaving but all I ask you to do is to turn the page and let the next story begin. -- Mr. Magorium
When the past dies, there is mourning, but when the future dies our imaginations are compelled to carry it on.
Sometimes I am God, if I say a man dies, he dies that same day.
Brothers, he who dies here dies in the radiance of the future, and we are entering a tomb all flooded with the dawn.
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