In Her Dreams Quotes

Caitlyn, s'il vous plait!" Madame said, whacking the blackboard with her stick, its end pointing to the irregular verb devoir, "to have to." She
wanted Caitlyn to conjugate it.
Caitlyn felt the class's attention turn to her, and a clammy sweat broke out in her armpits. Her brain stopped in its tracks, unable to move under
the pressure. A vague sense of having known how to speak French in her dreams tickled at her brain, but the skill was as lost to her in the waking
world as was Raphael.
"Devoir," Caitlyn croaked. "Er. Je dev? Tu dev?"
Madame gaped at her, horrified.
Caitlyn shook her head; she knew those words were wrong. "Er … I mean, uh …" And then out of nowhere came, "Egli deve, lei dovrebbe …"
These words felt right. He must, she must …
Several girls burst into laughter.
"What?" Caitlyn demanded.
"You're speaking Italian!" one girl shrieked, and collapsed into hysterical giggles. ~ Lisa Cach

Aoife, in her dreams, makes a noise like a friendless harmonica. ~ David Mitchell

She called herself an angel, and wandered the world from girlhood till death. She lived every kind of life and dreamt every kind of dream. She was wild in her wandering, a drop of free water. She believed only in her life and in her dreams. She called herself an angel, and her god was Beauty. ~ Roman Payne

Minutes pass, and between the minutes, June is slashing out the possibilities. She is narrowing her sister's life down to its essentials. The first to go is the vet's office where May might have worked, which is a loss, but the next to go is the mansion that May has been inside of in her dreams, a terrible, vast, cold place where the pictures are old and of other families. And so it is a relief to see it go, slashed out, burned to the ground with the hot friction of June's pencil. Then there is the loss of all possible sons, which is a tremendous relief, and then the crossing out of husbands, one by one, save one. ~ Emily Ruskovich

Angela turned in her chair. Resting her chin on folded hands, the
mirror reflected the look of a girl in love. 'Oh, what a blessing fate has
bestowed on me. ~ Katherine Givens

Endymion

The rising moon has hid the stars;
Her level rays, like golden bars,
Lie on the landscape green,
With shadows brown between.

And silver white the river gleams,
As if Diana, in her dreams,
Had dropt her silver bow
Upon the meadows low.

On such a tranquil night as this,
She woke Endymion with a kiss,
When, sleeping in the grove,
He dreamed not of her love.

Like Dian's kiss, unasked, unsought,
Love gives itself, but is not bought;
Nor voice, nor sound betrays
Its deep, impassioned gaze.

It comes,--the beautiful, the free,
The crown of all humanity,--
In silence and alone
To seek the elected one.

It lifts the boughs, whose shadows deep
Are Life's oblivion, the soul's sleep,
And kisses the closed eyes
Of him, who slumbering lies.

O weary hearts! O slumbering eyes!
O drooping souls, whose destinies
Are fraught with fear and pain,
Ye shall be loved again!

No one is so accursed by fate,
No one so utterly desolate,
But some heart, though unknown,
Responds unto his own.

Responds,--as if with unseen wings,
An angel touched its quivering strings;
And whispers, in its song,
"Where hast thou stayed so long? ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

She spent all her free time either drawing the strange things she saw in her dreams, or with her nose inside historical novels. The world held in
the pages of history felt like the real world, and the present day an illusion she had to suffer through until she could escape back into the pages of a
book. ~ Lisa Cach

She wished she were as inconsequential as the ghosts in her dreams. ~ Libba Bray

The strength was always in you. All you had to do was find it. ~ Katherine Givens

Color - that's another thing people don't expect. In her imagination, in her dreams, everything has color. The museum buildings are beige, chestnut, hazel. Its scientists are lilac and lemon yellow and fox brown. Piano chords loll in the speaker of the wireless in the guard station, projecting rich blacks and complicated blues down the hall toward the key pound. Church bells send arcs of bronze careening off the windows. Bees are silver; pigeons are ginger and auburn and occasionally golden. The huge cypress trees she and her father pass on their morning walk are shimmering kaleidoscopes, each needle a polygon of light.
She has no memories of her mother but imagines her as white, a soundless brilliance. Her father radiates a thousand colors, opal, strawberry red, deep russet, wild green; a smell like oil and metal, the feel of a lock tumbler sliding home, the sound of his key rings chiming as he walks. He is an olive green when he talks to a department head, an escalating series of oranges when he speaks to Mademoiselle Fleury from the greenhouses, a bright red when he tries to cook. He glows sapphire when he sits over his workbench in the evenings, humming almost inaudibly as he works, the tip of his cigarette gleaming a prismatic blue. ~ Anthony Doerr

In the garden, the Captain of the Guard stared up at the young woman's balcony, watching as she waltzed alone, lost in her dreams. But he knew her thoughts weren't of him.
She stopped and stared upward. Even from a distance, he could see the blush upon her cheeks. She seemed young - no, new. It made his chest ache.
Still, he watched, watched until she sighed and went inside. She never bothered to look below. ~ Sarah J. Maas

And Viola is the idol, the theme of Naples. She is the spoiled sultana of the boards. To spoil her acting may be easy enough, - shall they spoil her nature? No, I think not. There, at home, she is still good and simple; and there, under the awning by the doorway, - there she still sits, divinely musing. How often, crook-trunked tree, she looks to thy green boughs; how often, like thee, in her dreams, and fancies, does she struggle for the light, - not the light of the stage-lamps. Pooh, child! be contented with the lamps, even with the rush-lights. A farthing candle is more convenient for household purposes than the stars. ~ Edward Bulwer-Lytton

In her dreams, she flies. ~ Patrick Ness

She was tired of hugging pillows, counting on blankets for warmth, and reliving romantic moments only in her dreams. She was tired of hoping that every day would hurry so she could get on to the next. Hoping that it would be a better day, an easier day. But it never was. Worked, paid the bills, and went to bed but never slept. Each morning the weight on her shoulders got heavier and heavier and each morning she wished for night to fall quickly so she could return to her bed to hug her pillows and wrap herself in the warmth of her blankets. ~ Cecelia Ahern

Her fingers dug into the doorframe she leaned on, hoping and praying that he would just step out of the shadows and kiss her the way he had done so often in her dreams. ~ Elaine White

Swimming in bewilderment, Fiona somehow managed to remain relatively calm while the man who'd starred in her dreams for months sat beside her on the sofa. Relatively calm - in her dictionary - loosely translated to not drooling or humiliating herself. ~ Candis Terry

Still seated, Jordan lowered his pants to midthigh and rolled down the waistband of his boxer briefs, exposing a set of V-shaped hip flexor muscles that were bound to make an appearance in her dreams tonight. She ~ Melissa Landers

Thinking back on the outing to the theatre, she added, 'I want a man, not a preening peacock! ~ Katherine Givens

I used to write poetry when I was younger," Jess said. She had kept a notebook by her bed, in case some line or image came to her in her dreams, but she had always been a sound sleeper, and no Xanadus or nightingales woke her. She read Coleridge or Keats and felt that they had covered the great subjects so well that she had nothing to add about beauty, or immortality of the soul. "Now I just read."
She spoke cheerfully, without a hint of wistfulness. She was indignant sometimes, but never wistful. Opinionated, but still hopeful in her opinions. Oh, Jess, George thought, no one has hurt you yet. ~ Allegra Goodman

She was tired hugging pillows, counting on blankets for warmth, and reliving romantic moments only in her dreams. She was tired of hoping that everyday would hurry so she could get on to the next. Hoping that it would be a better day, an easier day. But it never was. ~ Cecilia Ahern

Her heart was the one thing she'd always been sure of. Often she imagined of how it would be like to lose it, the thrill and the anxiety of the fall. She'd always wondered who it would be who would make everything inside her yearn. How they would be together
for in her dreams he loved her as well. ~ Nora Roberts

Besides her family, the only other permanent part of her life was with her friends online. She could be with them at anytime, anywhere she was. She could talk to them about anything. It was her own virtual world and her parents could not interfere or comment on it, but she had dreams too. And her dreams included a man - a man that she created in her dreams and thought that she would never find in the real world. Then, suddenly, Michael showed up claiming to be that man. ~ Stevan V. Nikolic

And Jaina hears him whispering to her in her dreams, telling her that no one you love ever really has to die--if you don't want them to...All you have to do is hold a place for them in your heart. ~ Troy Denning

She told her journal about me passing by her in the parking lot, about how on that night I had touched her-literally, she felt it, reached out. What I had looked like then. How she dreamed about me. How she had fashioned the idea that a spirit could be a sort of second skin for someone, a protective layer somehow. How maybe if she was assiduous she could free us both. I would read over her shoulder as she wrote down her thoughts and wonder if anyone might believe her one day.
When she was imagining me, she felt better, less alone, more connected to something out there. To someone out there. She saw the corn field in her dreams, and a new world opening, a world where maybe she could find a foothold too.
"You're a really good poet Ruth," she imagined me saying, and her journal would release her into a daydream of being such a good poet that her words had the power to resurrect me. ~ Alice Sebold

You fell in love with her
when she couldn't love herself.
You loved her wide brown eyes
that resembled the color of pure honey,
and her big plump lips
that were perfect enough to kiss.
You loved her voice
when she called your name
because she couldn't fall asleep,
and the silence of it all
when she was long gone in her dreams.
You taught her to love herself;
head, toe, and everything in between.
Her body,
her mind
and soul.
Let nothing intervene. ~ Ka.ya

I don't want to be a vampire' she told herself. But in her dreams, she kind of did. ~ Holly Black

Sleep, honey. We can play later." And if she hadn't seen it with her own tired eyes, she never would've believed it. Like the snuffing of a candle, he was asleep in seconds. Burning red hot one moment, a ghost of dissipating smoke the next.

Hope inventoried his unguarded face, softer and so much younger in sleep, his enviably long lashes hiding the ever present jadedness. Fatigue pulled at her and she fought it, forcing her eyes open when they drifted shut.

"I'm not gonna fall in love with you, Beck. I'm gonna leave you in August."

She whispered the vow to a man in deep sleep. To a room cast in shadow. To a house steeped in tradition. To a woman mired in denial.

Sleep took her quickly, quicker than she wanted, and with it came the mocking sound of her surely spoken promise, echoing in her dreams like a school yard taunt. ~ Jodi Watters

On a Bare Hill's Top...

On a bare hill's top, in the North, wild and cold,
A lone pine-tree somewhere stands;
She dozes, swaying, all covered by snow
With a mantel from feet to a head.

She sees in her dreams: in a faraway desert,
In lands where the sun enters skies,
Alone and sad, on a rock's sunburnt lather,
A beautiful palm-tree abides. ~ Mikhail Lermontov

The Love of Europa: She called herself Europa. She was wild in her wandering, a drop of free water. She believed only in her life and in her dreams. She called herself Europa, and her god was Beauty. ~ Roman Payne

Love was something that sat comfortably in her dreams, so she never fully expected it to materialize. ~ Abby Slovin

Suddenly everything became clear. Tella understood why Legend showed up in her dreams but kept his distance, refusing to touch her until tonight, right before making an offer to change her. Last night she'd thought Legend had real feelings for her – that he could love her. But it was the opposite. Legend wasn't changing – he was hoping to change her.
And she didn't believe it was so that she wouldn't die. Legend wanted to make her immortal so that he wouldn't die.
He didn't love her. He was afraid of falling in love with her, because love was his one weakness. If Legend loved her, he'd lose his immortality and become human. But he wouldn't have to worry about it if she was immortal, because immortals couldn't love each other.
Immortals felt obsession, fixation, lust, possession. And Legend was clearly experiencing those things. ~ Stephanie Garber

When he comes for her, it's only in her dreams where she has no control, no way to shut the door, and nowhere to run. That's when she listens. ~ Donna Lynn Hope

I can give myself to her
In her dreams
Whispering her own poems
In her ear as she sleeps beside me. ~ Akiko Yosano

Right now the nightmares were in her waking hours so she needed to stay asleep. She was broken. Shattered. Devastated. Crushed. There was nothing left of the woman she had been. She could see it in her eyes. When she was awake she had to acknowledge her brokenness. She had to admit to herself that she might never be fixed. It was too much to think about. Her boy had to come back and, until he did, she needed to stay in her dreams. ~ Nicole Trope

He said to himself, that this child had a right to know life before renouncing it, that to deprive her in advance, and in some sort without consulting her, of all joys, under the pretext of saving her from all trials, to take advantage of her ignorance of her isolation, in order to make an artificial vocation germinate in her, was to rob a human creature of its nature and to lie to God. ~ Victor Hugo

Charlie looked at the great library of scrolls. It would take a lifetime to read them all, even for a genius. So this was how they'd trapped the great Cipher, thought Charlie. She was clever enough to escape any prison. But something in her nature couldn't let the scrolls go unread. Lily's ~ C.S. Quinn

Leave your brother alone, baby girl. He's going adventuring. Lucky bastard." His dad dragged him into a bear proportioned hug. "Bring me back some images of the local ladies. Naked ones if you can," he whispered. "You'd need eyes to look at those, Geoffrey," his mother retorted. While they argued about his dad's interest in the human body as art, Naomi clutched his tear soaked shirt in her fists and shook him. "Be careful." "Aren't I always?" "No. ~ Eve Langlais

The woman who had been born in an imperial palace, and then, as Queen of France, had had hundreds of rooms in her dwelling house, was now imprisoned in a tiny basement cell, its walls streaming with damp, and its grated window half occluded. ~ Stefan Zweig

I feed Volnay, who eats in her unusual way, delicately removing one piece of kibble at a time from her bowl, placing it on the little rug that serves as her dining room, and then eating it before going back in for a second piece of kibble. It takes her the better part of thirty minutes to finish her bowl. I'm sure if she had thumbs, she'd be patting her chin with a linen napkin after every morsel. When she finishes, she hits the water bowl. Silently. No one can figure out how she drinks, she sort of purses her lips and sucks, none of that slurping and splashing that accompany most dogs' drinking. She is a stealth drinker. When she finishes, she heads to her little bed in the corner of the kitchen to groom her fur a bit. Lovely girl. ~ Stacey Ballis

Then she turned, punched me in the arm, and ran in her
bunk. I said with a straight face. ~ Phil Wohl

It's hard to confine an irrational woman in a rational pattern, so I had no idea really what was in her mind. ~ Leslie Ford

everywhere for it. And, as she sought, the conviction came into her heart that her husband had taken it. What she had in her purse was all the money ~ D.H. Lawrence

The waterfall, and the tiki torches, all of these things the stuff of vacations and dreams and impossible to maintain, but then she knew - and this is what was keeping her up, her head careening with something like a toddler's joy - that she would be going back to that place, the place where all these things happened. She was welcome there, employed there. ~ Dave Eggers

Hazel shrugged. She heard Bobby's voice in her head and wondered why it was she who was not allowed to hurt anyone. ~ Anne Ursu

And he saw the right evening star reflected in her eyes, and he saw the black cloud reflected in her eyes. ~ John Steinbeck

A woman sees herself dying, in these cases not at the actual moment of death but months, sometimes years before, when death has hideously come to dwell in her. The sufferer makes the acquaintance of the stranger whom she hears coming and going in her brain. She does not know him by sight, it is true, but from the sounds which she hears him regularly make she can form an idea of his habits. Is he a criminal? One morning, she can no longer hear him. He has gone. Ah! If it were only for ever! In the evening he has returned. What are his plans? Her specialist, put to the question, like an adored mistress, replies with avowals that one day are believed, another day fail to convince her. Or rather it is not the mistress's part but that of the servants one interrogates that the doctor plays. They are only third parties. The person whom we press for an answer, whom we suspect of being about to play us false, is life itself, and although we feel her to be no longer the same we believe in her still or at least remain undecided until the day on which she finally abandons us. ~ Marcel Proust

Claire fell asleep on the couch with her head in Shane's lap as he and Michael and Eve kept talking, and talking, and talking. It was three a.m. when she woke up; Shane hadn't moved, but she was covered with a blanket, and he was sound asleep, sitting straight up.
Claire yawned, groaned at sore muscles, and rolled to her feet. "Shane. Up. You need to go to bed."
He woke up cute, softened by sleep. "Come with?" He was only half joking. She remembered being curled up with him in her bed, the night she'd been so scared; he'd been careful then, but she wasn't sure she could count on that kind of self-restraint at three a.m., when he was half-asleep.
"I can't," she said reluctantly. "Not that I don't want to ..."
He smiled and stretched out on his side on the couch, leaving a narrow space between his warm, solid body and the cushions. "Stay," he said. "I promise, no clothes will come off. Well, maybe shoes. Do shoes count as clothes?"
She kicked hers off and climbed over him to slip into that small pocket, and sighed in relief as his body pressed against hers. She didn't even need the blanket, but he put it over the two of them anyway, and then combed her hair back from her neck and kissed her on the soft, vulnerable skin. ~ Rachel Caine

Sasha gets a raw deal from the press. She makes one mistake in her program and people rip her for not pulling it off when it counts. But she never falls apart. She never just completely folds and misses everything. Usually it's just one mistake. ~ Brian Boitano

Time. She had to go home. As soon as the lunar eclipse occurred in three weeks. Because if she stayed here, she would die. Either from the bullet in her back, or from the pain that was slowly sinking talons into her. ~ Shelly Thacker

She smiled at him, and Val felt his heart trip on the next few beats. Good God, she was lovely. Just sitting here outside the Rooster, cradling her mug in her hands. A little dusty, a little tired, but in her warm, earthy dark-eyed way, she was beautiful. ~ Grace Burrowes

The light that had flared to life in her mind, the mating light, burned brightly, filling her with an endless glow of warmth and love.
She cocked her head. "They say a leopard can't change his spots."
"Liv . . ." The word ached.
She pressed her hand to his cheek and smiled at him with all the love in her heart. "It's a good thing you're not a leopard. ~ Pamela Palmer

They'd eaten every meal outdoors, hard-boiled eggs and cheese from a picnic basket, and drunk wine under the lilac tree in the walled garden. They'd disappeared inside the woods, and stolen apples from the farm next door, and floated down the stream in her little boat as one silken hour spun itself into the next. On a clear, still night, they'd dug the old bicycles out of the shed and cycled together along the dusty lane, racing, laughing, breathing in salt from the warm air as moonlight made the stones, still hot from the day, shine lustrous white. ~ Kate Morton

Damnú air."
"You're cussing!"
"I refuse to admit to uttering bad words in any language." Patrick grinned and his teeth flashed white. "Jenny has been Googling German insults. I don't want her to look up Gaelic next."
Oh Lord. I tried not to think about what kind of information Jenny discovered in her search. "You let her Google curse words?"
"She said it was for educational purposes."
"Yeah, right. You are so fired as the baby-sitter. ~ Michele Bardsley

Her parents, she said, has put a pinball machine inside her head when she was five years old. The red balls told her when she should laugh, the blue ones when she should be silent and keep away from other people; the green balls told her that she should start multiplying by three. Every few days a silver ball would make its way through the pins of the machine. At this point her head turned and she stared at me; I assumed she was checking to see if I was still listening. I was, of course. How could one not? The whole thing was bizarre but riveting. I asked her, What does the silver ball mean? She looked at me intently, and then everything went dead in her eyes. She stared off into space, caught up in some internal world. I never found out what the silver ball meant. ~ Kay Redfield Jamison

Faith keeps many doubts in her pay. If I could not doubt, I should not believe. ~ Henry David Thoreau

She stared at the surface of her coffee, swirling in her mug. Tiny universes rose and fell in the liquid depths as the moment dragged out into uncomfortable territory. Oh god! her mind screamed. (God didn't answer.) ~ Danika Stone

Sandy's face was very close to mine in the crowded room. She had a wide mouth and a lot of teeth. She had turned in her seat so that she had one thigh on each side of my leg. Her chest was against my arm. In another minute we wouldn't have to go anywhere to have sex. ~ Robert B. Parker

When evening fell the boy would bring the girl a glass of tea, a slice of lemon cake, an apple blossom floating in a blue cup. He would kiss her neck and whisper new names in her ear: beauty, beloved, cherished, my heart. ~ Leigh Bardugo

The most interesting thing was the talk from the customers. Nobody can buy a hat without gossiping. Sophie sat in her alcove and stitched and heard [ ... ] that Wizard Howl's castle had moved round to the cliffs again, really that man, whisper, whisper, whisper ... The voices always dropped low when they talked of Wizard Howl, [ ... ] Then there would be a fleeting, fearful whisper about the Witch of the Waste.
Sophie began to feel that Wizard Howl and the Witch of the Waste should get together. ~ Diana Wynne Jones

It was wondrous. Almost unbelievable. Like champagne bubbles, but in her soul. She felt effervescent. And so in love. ~ Christine Feehan

Buried his face in Lily's throat, drinking in her small ~ Anne Marsh

Ridley nodded. 'She told me I couldn't ever tell General Harding or anybody else. Told me I wouldn't be safe.'
'Safe?' Uncle Bob stopped rocking and took the pipe from between his teeth. 'She started in talkin' 'bout you bein' safe, sir?'
Ridley nodded again, and that's when Uncle Bob grinned.
'Well, shoot ... you ain't lost her yet, sir. Not altogether, anyhow. Any female goes to talkin' 'bout you bein' safe ... hmmph. There still be somethin' left in her heart for ya. ~ Tamera Alexander

She knew there was something dark in her then, when she left the alley and the shadows followed. ~ Daniella Michalleni

This morning I heard: the hesitancy in her voice wasn't ordinary sincerity but a lot of it, and her tone wasn't only friendly, it was intimate, private, longing. The words, quiet and simple as they were, were strong, deep tosses that landed close, and loud. ~ Dagoberto Gilb

She divorced her husband, y' know. I never knew him, it was before I met Jane. Apparently she came back from work one mornin' an' found her husband in bed with the milkman. With the milkman, honest to God. Well, apparently, from that day forward Jane was a feminist. An' I've noticed, she never takes milk in her tea. ~ Willy Russell