Library of Information on Women's Issues
A Dry Nights Sleep
presents
Dreams by Olive Schreiner
Index of 48
| Dreams |
| Then There Came A Time Was It After Weeks? Was It After Months? (love And |
| Them Against His Beating Little Heart, And Warmed Them And Softly He Drew |
| one day they start up suddenly, crying, 'O God! O God! we have lost it! |
| One night, as he wandered in the shade, very heartsore and weeping, an old |
| built a strong iron cage called a new creed, and put all his birds in it. |
| above circle of bare rock they have scaled; and, wandering there, in |
| valleys with it. Then again he took it out and looked at it. |
| dancing. He lifted his head to look at them. Nearer, nearer they came. |
| He covered his face with his hands and would not listen; and when he looked |
| on, saying always to himself, "Once this wall climbed, I shall be almost |
| tranquil. You are not lonely when you are asleep, neither do your hands |
| young and fresh. By the steps that I have cut they will climb; by the |
| came. And she showed him her empty hands, the hands that held nothing now. |
| The voice said, "What is it?" |
| beat fiercely, and all along the horizon the air throbbed. And after a |
| Necessity has not been cut." |
| But her head she held up; she did not lay it down again. And he beside me |
| for the land of Freedom." |
| He said, "Open it, and let me see." |
| He said, "They are the feet of those that shall follow you. Lead on! make |
| that the next day he would arise again. |
| to a high hill where all men may see him. When he dies he is not |
| stretches out his arms to it, and would lay his heart against a thing he |
| from it. The chapel stands here alone upon the promontory, and by day and |
| row of houses buried among the olive trees; the water broke in a long, |
| hate! I cannot forgive! I cannot forgive!' And I went and stood outside |
| to take from it all those outward attributes of form, and colour, and age, |
| The Soul In Its Outward Form And Vesture And The Man Knew Who It Was. |
| There was an artist once, and he painted a picture. Other artists had |
| God said, "How is this?" |
| us. |
| pass on." |
| quickly; and they let the curtain fall behind them; they bore great jars |
| And all the men and women answered, "Let us pray." |
| thirsty." |
| them?" |
| shoulders. Little children, sick with wine, lay down upon the edges of |
| And I listened. |
| Pillar Sat A Grey Owl Of The Desert, With Folded Wings; And In The Evening |
| but those in the lower may not have strength to climb to the higher; |
| God said, "Shining on the plants that they may grow." |
| shone as I held them. He said, "This garden is for all when it is |
| men have treated me. How they have misunderstood me. How I have intended |
| pattern is worked out?" |
| mantle." |
| To him is clear the shining in the garden, he sees the flower break forth |
| I cried, "If I may not stay in Heaven, then let me go down to Hell, and |
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