To Sleep, Perchance to Dream . . . (Short Story)
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- The Demdike Legacy.
- Short story fiction from around the world;
- “To Sleep, Perchance to Dream” now available for online reading.
- To Sleep, Perchance to Dream;
- Urban Encounters: Affirmative Action and Black Identities in Brazil.
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Lopez ebook. There is a common thread in many of my short stories and even in my poetry about the nature of reality and the relationship between sleepand wakefulness and the conscious and subconscious mind. As is the case with a number of my short stories, this was inspired by a dream. It delves into one possible explanation for what lurks in the dark recesses of our mind for which science has yet to discover a clear use.
Fiction Science Fiction Short Stories.
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons Be all my sins remember'd. Tell me where is Fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head? Reply, reply. It is engender'd in the eyes; With gazing fed; and Fancy dies In the cradle where it lies.
Let us all ring Fancy's knell: I'll begin it,--Ding, dong, bell! Ding, dong, bell! On the bat's back I do fly After summer merrily: Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. Materials for Teachers Materials for Teachers Home.
Hamlet, Act III, Scene I [To be, or not to be]
Poems for Kids. Poems for Teens.
Lesson Plans. Teach this Poem. Poetry Near You. Academy of American Poets.
To Sleep, Perchance to Dream - Meaning and Usage
National Poetry Month. American Poets Magazine.
Poems Find and share the perfect poems. From you have I been absent in the spring Sonnet 98 From you have I been absent in the spring, When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim, Hath put a spirit of youth in everything, That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him, Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odor and in hue, Could make me any summer's story tell, Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew.
Nor did I wonder at the lily's white, Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose; They were but sweet, but figures of delight, Drawn after you, you pattern of all those. Yet seemed it winter still, and, you away, As with your shadow I with these did play. William Shakespeare Venus and Adonis [But, lo! Imperiously he leaps, he neighs, he bounds, And now his woven girths he breaks asunder; The bearing earth with his hard hoof he wounds, Whose hollow womb resounds like heaven's thunder; The iron bit he crushes 'tween his teeth Controlling what he was controlled with.
His ears up-prick'd; his braided hanging mane Upon his compass'd crest now stand on end; His nostrils drink the air, and forth again, As from a furnace, vapours doth he send: His eye, which scornfully glisters like fire, Shows his hot courage and his high desire.
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Sometime her trots, as if he told the steps, With gentle majesty and modest pride; Anon he rears upright, curvets and leaps, As who should say, 'Lo! For rich caparisons or trapping gay? He sees his love, and nothing else he sees, Nor nothing else with his proud sight agrees.