She Haunts My Dreams Quotes & Sayings

No eye may see dispassionately. There is no comprehension at a glance. Only the recognition of damsel, horse or fly and the assumption of damsel, horse or fly; and so with dreams and beyond, for what haunts the heart will, when it is found, leap foremost, blinding the eye and leaving the main of Life in darkness. — Mervyn Peake

While devastation created by nature, such as wildfire, tornadoes, and hurricanes, can be far reaching and cause cataclysmic losses, the trauma that haunts our dreams and is the most feared is man-made. Acts of violence and depravity committed by one human being on another are personal in nature and leave those affected by them asking the questions, "Why did it happen to me?" or "Why did it have to happen at all?" With the advent of technology, the general public can view a new atrocity every day on the nightly news somewhere close to their community. — Karen Rodwill Solomon

They all have tired mouths
and bright seamless souls.
And a longing (as for sin)
sometimes haunts their dreams.
They are almost all alike;
in God's gardens they keep still,
like many, many intervals
in his might and melody.
Only when they spread their wings
are they wakers of a wind:
as if God with his broad sculptor-
hands leafed through the pages
in the dark book of the beginning. — Rainer Maria Rilke

The ideal lover of flowers is he who visits them in their native haunts, like Taoyuenming who sat before a broken bamboo fence in converse with the wild chrysanthemum, or Linwosing, losing himself amid mysterious fragrance as he wandered in the twilight among the plum-blossoms of the Western Lake. 'Tis said that Chowmushih slept in a boat so that his dreams might mingle with those of the lotus.. — Okakura Kakuzo

There is a deep sense in which we are all ghost towns. We are all haunted by the memory of those we love, those with whom we feel we have unfinished business. While they may no longer be with us, a faint aroma of their presence remains, a presence that haunts us until we make our peace with them and let them go. The problem, however, is that we tend to spend a great deal of energy in attempting to avoid the truth. We construct an image of ourselves that seeks to shield us from a confrontation with our ghosts. Hence we often encounter them only late at night, in the corridors of our dreams. — Peter Rollins

Is writing the gift of curling up, of curling up with reality? One would so love to curl up, of course, but what happens to me then? What happens to those, who don't really know reality at all? It's so very dishevelled. No comb, that could smooth it down. The writers run through it and despairingly gather together their hair into a style, which promptly haunts them at night. Something's wrong with the way one looks. The beautifully piled up hair can be chased out of its home of dreams again, but can anyway no longer be tamed. Or hangs limp once more, a veil before a face, no sooner than it could finally be subdued. Or stands involuntarily on end in horror at what is constantly happening. It simply won't be tidied up. It doesn't want to. — Elfriede Jelinek

Then she appears, the fantasy which haunts my dreams. The creature who taunts me without having one Goddamn clue of the internal chaos she causes. — Sadie Grubor

The ocean has a voice, one that haunts me with its music every moment I'm awake. Even in my dreams it tugs on me, building the ache inside my bones until I can't ignore who I am. My mother says the water is dangerous, that beyond the innocent whitecaps they're waiting, but I never hear her over the call of the sea. — Tabi Card

Why?" he whispered as he leaned over her, supported on one arm. "Why must ye be the one that haunts me dreams? I've seen ye weepin' night after bloody night since the day I sent ye from me palace with yer dress half undone. If I had it to do over again, I'd cut me own right hand off rather than hurt ye so. Will ye never be able to forgive me, Silence love?"
"I already have," she replied, cradling his cheek in her hand. "Long, long ago. — Elizabeth Hoyt

She haunts my dreams.
Shadows of the past.
Ripping my heart down the seams.
No one to blame but me.
I'm a lone wolf now, but I still stare up at the moon, Call her name and wonder if she's looking too ... — Lisa Kessler

I only have have one question, scraping the inside of me. Answer it, and I will stumble back into her shadow, shut my mouth, never ask again. I've tried to ignore it, but it won't go away. It haunts my dreams, chases me through every single day, and I don't have the strength to turn around, face it down. So please tell me and I swear I'll never ask again. It's in your power to make it go away, and all you have to do is tell me why you love her more. — Ellen Hopkins

Poor, poor dear. Waiting must be so hard for you. I've heard Renier is an exquisite lover. All the Keepers gossip about him - the young Guardian who haunts their dreams." The smile on her glossy red lips was teasing and cruel. "But rules are rules. He's an alpha male, so his ... eagerness can be excused. Yours, however, is a disappointment. — Andrea Cremer

There, at a depth to which divers would find it difficult to descend, are caverns, haunts, and dusky mazes, where monstrous creatures multiply and destroy each other. Huge crabs devour fish and are devoured in their turn. Hideous shapes of living things, not created to be seen by human eyes wander in this twilight. Vague forms of antennae, tentacles, fins, open jaws, scales, and claws, float about there, quivering, growing larger, or decomposing and perishing in the gloom, while horrible swarms of swimming things prowl about seeking their prey.
To gaze into the depths of the sea is, in the imagination, like beholding the vast unknown, and from its most terrible point of view. The submarine gulf is analogous to the realm of night and dreams. There also is sleep, unconsciousness, or at least apparent unconsciousness, of creation. There in the awful silence and darkness, the rude first forms of life, phantomlike, demoniacal, pursue their horrible instincts. — Victor Hugo

I want to be the man who haunts your dreams and thoughts, the man whom you cannot live without. — H.P. Mallory

These are the results of public security cams at work, recording routinely those who come and go. Apparently, it functions as a wondrous preventative because nothing deters crime so much here as the fear of getting caught. Incompetence is the bogey that haunts all Bug dreams. — Ann Aguirre

I watch as the seasons change. Leaves float in the sky and fall gracefully to the earth. I sit and wish that you were here with me. Night takes the day, and I can feel you near. I can't see your face, but I know you are in my dreams. I hear you. I wait to find you, the one who haunts my soul. Where are you? Only the seasons ever change; leaves continue to fall and then rustle about the earth. Night continues to reign over me. Though the memories are lost, I know a part of you is still with me. — Jillian Peery

He was wrong in thinking that by saying 'Nnphnn!' Sunny had been complaining about getting undressed in front of her siblings. Sunny's oversized suit had muffled the word she was really saying, and it was a word that still haunts me in my dreams as I toss and turn each night, images of Beatrice and her legacy filling my weary, grieving brain no matter where in the world I travel and no matter what important evidence I discover. — Lemony Snicket

The desire for peace fills our hands with purpose during the day; the fear of war haunts our dreams at night. — Cameron Dokey

I've lived to se my longings die
I've lived to se my longings die:
My dreams and I have grown apart;
Now only sorrow haunts my eye,
The wages of a bitter heart.
Beneath the storms of hostile fate,
My flowery wreath has faded fast;
I live alone and sadly wait
To see when death will come at last.
Just so, when the winds in winter moan
And snow descends in frigid flakes,
Upon a naked branch, alone,
The final leaf of summer shakes! ... — Alexander Pushkin

Her wistful face haunts my dreams like the rain at night. — Rabindranath Tagore

That's the blessing and the curse of loss: You don't get to choose what falls within the inevitable dissolution of recollection or what lingers and haunts you late at night, your head heavy with memories, while your husband dreams of scaling walls in spandex tights.This is who I am: someone who simultaneously longs for and fears the commitment of remembering. There is the forgetting, the disintegration of memory, morsel by morsel; and there is the impossibility of forgetting, the scar tissue, with is insulated layers of padding. Both haunt me in their own way. — Julie Buxbaum