“I play the radio and moon about… and dream of Utopias where its always July the 24th 1935, in the middle of summer forever.”

“The swarm of thoughts, the swarm of dreams
Of inaccessible Utopia.
A mountainous music always seemed
To be falling and to be passing away.”

“Through buried paths, where sleepy twilight dreams
The summer time away.”

“I was in the middle of a dream about garbage cans and frogs - don't ask, and I won't tell.”

“I dream. Sometimes I think that’s the only right thing to do. To dream, to live in the world of dreams. But it doesn’t last forever. Wakefulness always comes to take me back.”

“Oh, call my brother back to me!
I cannot play alone:
The summer comes with flower and bee,—
Where is my brother gone?”

“Immortality is like trying to carve your initials in a block of ice in the middle of July.”

“Democratic man, dreaming eternally of Utopias, is ever a prey to shibboleths.”

“I had a dream where the car is reduced to a fossil
I had a dream where the car is reduced to a fossil
Take a packet of seeds, take yourself out to play
I want to see a river of orchids where we had a motorway”

“The hot radio medium used in cool or nonliterate cultures has a violent effect, quite unlike its effect, say in England or America, where radio is felt as entertainment.”