Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.

They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.

The ninety and nine are with dreams, content but the hope of the world made new, is the hundredth man who is grimly bent on making those dreams come true.

The realities of the world affected me as visions, and as visions only, while the wild ideas of the land of dreams became, in turn,—not the material of my every-day existence–but in very deed that existence utterly and solely in itself.

And all my days are trances,
And all my nightly dreams are where thy grey eye glances,
And where thy footstep gleams–In what ethereal dances,
By what eternal streams.

-Edgar Allan Poe