A Quote by Mary Baker Eddy

Lulled by stupefying illusions, the world is asleep in the cradle of infancy, dreaming away the hours. — © Mary Baker Eddy
Lulled by stupefying illusions, the world is asleep in the cradle of infancy, dreaming away the hours.
Know, by sad experience, what it is to be lulled to sleep with a false peace. Long was I lulled asleep; long did I think myself a Christian, when I knew nothing of the Lord Jesus Christ.
Asleep vision (dreaming) is perception that is not tied down to anything in the real world; waking perception is something like dreaming with a little more commitment to what's in front of you.
This is the pleasantest part of life. Oblivion throws her light coverlet over our infancy; and, soon after we are out of the cradle we forget how soundly we had been slumbering, and how delightful were our dreams. Toil and pleasure contend for us almost the instant we rise from it: and weariness follows whichever has carried us away. We stop awhile, look around us, wonder to find we have completed the circle of existence, fold our arms, and fall asleep again.
Christianity is the companion of liberty in all its conflicts, the cradle of its infancy, and the divine source of its claims.
Emma was no asleep, she was pretending to be asleep; and, while he was dozing off at her side, she lay awake, dreaming other dreams.
Some people know they are dreaming when they are asleep. You must also know you are dreaming when you wake-up. When you know you are dreaming when you wake up, then you are really waking up
What is the soul? What color is it? I suspected my soul, being mischievous, might slip away while I was dreaming and fail to return. I did my best not to fall asleep, to keep it inside of me where it belonged.
Only the stupefying ignorance of young women prevents them from comprehending the stupefying emptiness of the men who cluster round them.
The only cure for loss of illusions is fresh illusions, more illusions, and always illusions.
No cradle for an emperor's child was ever prepared with so much magnificence as this world has been made for man. But it is only his cradle.
The way to begin healing the wounds of the world is to treasure the Infant Christ in us; to be not the castle but the cradle of Christ; and, in rocking that cradle to the rhythm of love, to swing the whole world back into the beat of the Music of Eternal Life.
I am an insomniac. I wake up at 6 or 6:30 and get out of bed immediately. The coffee starts right away. Then I get to the computer as quickly as possible. I like to start writing when I'm still half-asleep, in a state between dreaming and waking.
We are not dead but asleep, dreaming of ourselves.
Dance music ... stirs some barbaric instinct - lulled asleep in our sober lives - you forget centuries of civilization in a second, & yield to that strange passion which sends you madly whirling round the room.
Your wits can't thicken in that soft moist air, on those white springy roads, in those misty rushes and brown bogs, on those hillsides of granite rocks and magenta heather. You've no such colours in the sky, no such lure in the distances, no such sadness in the evenings. Oh the dreaming! the dreaming! the torturing, heart-scalding, never satisfying dreaming, dreaming, dreaming, dreaming!
There is but one world common for those who are awake, but when men are asleep, each turns away into a world of his own.
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