We all walk in the dark and each of us must learn to turn on his or her own light.

We chase dreams and embrace shadows.

Whereas what we need is to fumble around in the darkness, because that's where our lives (not necessarily all of the time, but at least some of the time, and particularly when life gets problematical for us) takes place.

Here we are all, by day; by night, we're hurled
By dreams, each one, into a several world.

Each of us must make his own voyage through darkness and danger to the light that beacons in the distance.

Whatever causes night in our souls may leave stars.

"In Darkness"

Must all of worth be travailled for, and those
Life's brightest stars rise from a troubled sea?
Must years go by in sad uncertainty
Leaving us doubting whose the conquering blows,
Are we or Fate the victors? Time which shows
All inner meanings will reveal, but we
Shall never know the upshot. Ours to be
Wasted with longing, shattered in the throes,
The agonies of splendid dreams, which day
Dims from our vision, but each night brings back;
We strive to hold their grandeur, and essay
To be the thing we dream. Sudden we lack
The flash of insight, life grows drear and gray,
And hour follows hour, nerveless, slack.

We all have forests in our minds. Forests unexplored, unending. Each one of us gets lost in the forest, every night, alone.

Humans are dreaming all the time.

What makes night within us may leave stars.

I dream in my dream all the dreams of the other dreamers,
And I become the other dreamers.

We all, sometimes, leave each other there under the skies, and we never understand why.

The whole universe is in darkness, but we remain lit. We're a tiny bird tied to a branch in the dark forest, with a spotlight trained on on us.

Looking at the stars always makes me dream, as simply as I dream over the black dots representing towns and villages on a map.

Why, I ask myself, shouldn’t the shining dots of the sky be as accessible as the black dots on the map of France?

Just as we take a train to get to Tarascon or Rouen, we take death to reach a star. We cannot get to a star while we are alive any more than we can take the train when we are dead. So to me it seems possible that cholera, tuberculosis and cancer are the celestial means of locomotion. Just as steamboats, buses and railways are the terrestrial means.

To die quietly of old age would be to go there on foot.