People are inherently wary and fearful. What is a person more afraid of, the paucity of their dreams or the satanic magnitude of their nightmares? Poetic inventions containing elements of truth comprise all of our nighttime dreams and ephemeral daydreams.

Nostalgia has a way of blocking the reality of the past.

Now I am twenty-eight, and am in reality more illiterate than many schoolboys of fifteen. It is true that I have thought more, and that my day dreams are more extended and magnificent; but they want (as the painters call it) keeping; and I greatly need a friend who would have sense enough not to despise me as romantic, and affection enough for me to endeavour to regulate my mind.