A Quote by John Dryden

Dreams are but interludes, which fancy makes; When monarch reason sleeps, this mimic wakes. — © John Dryden
Dreams are but interludes, which fancy makes; When monarch reason sleeps, this mimic wakes.
Dreams are but interludes that fancy makes... Sometimes forgotten things, long cast behind Rush forward in the brain, and come to mind.
Power makes you a monarch, and all the fancy robes in the world won't do the job without it.
The the relationship between the prime minister and the monarch is very much a personal one and when it comes to the constitution of the Order of Australia, which is headed by the monarch, this is governed by letters patent, which are a matter between the prime minister and the monarch.
Remorse sleeps during a prosperous period but wakes up in adversity.
She sleeps: her breathings are not heard In palace chambers far apart. The fragrant tresses are not stirr'd That lie upon her charmed heart She sleeps: on either hand upswells The gold-fringed pillow lightly prest: She sleeps, nor dreams, but ever dwells A perfect form in perfect rest.
In every man sleeps a prophet, and when he wakes there is a little more evil in the world.
The study of dreams may be considered the most trustworthy method of investigating deep mental processes. Now dreams occurring in traumatic neuroses have the characteristic of repeatedly bringing the patient back into the situation of his accident, a situation from which he wakes up in another fright.
I have a kind of innate sense of structure, which also makes me a good mimic.
Find what is it that never sleeps and never wakes, and whose pale reflection is our sense of 'I'
How stunning are the changes which age makes in a man while he sleeps!
The martial spirit is never dead. It sleeps through fortunate generations, but it wakes up very quickly to the toot of a fife. There's that roistering spirit in men which leads them to think a good fight is a lark - until they've been in one. And the impulse to fight for your own incarnation of an ideal.
In the germ, when the first trace of life begins to stir, music is the nurse of the soul; it murmurs in the ear, and the child sleeps; the tones are companions of his dreams- they are the world in which he lives
Whatever man loves, that is his god. For he carries it in his heart; he goes about with it night and day; he sleeps and wakes with it, be it what it may - wealth or self, pleasure or renown.
Ah, God! what trances of torments does that man endure who is consumed with one unachieved revengeful desire. He sleeps with clenched hands; and wakes with his own bloody nails in his palms.
Dreams seem to be spurred on not by reason but by desire, not by the head but by the heart, and yet what complicated tricks my reason has played sometimes in dreams.
When you have all the bells and whistles - you've got the big, fancy catering, you've got the big, fancy car service and the big, fancy trailer - it makes it very comfortable and everybody's making a lot of money. But that doesn't necessarily mean you're going to end up with a great film.
This site uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience. More info...
Got it!