Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, thus much let me avow— you are not wrong, who deem that my days have been a dream; yet if hope has flown away in a night, or in a day, in a vision, or in none, is it therefore the less gone? All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream. I stand amid the roar of a surf-tormented shore, and I hold within my hand grains of the golden sand— how few! Yet how they creep through my fingers to the deep, while I weep—while I weep! O God! Can I not grasp them with a tighter clasp? O God! Can I not save one from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem but a dream within a dream?
Edgar Allen Poe (1809-1849)