Our revels are now ended. These our actors As I foretold you, were all spirits and Are melted into air, into thin air; And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capped tow'rs, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all of which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Is rounded with a sleep.

I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was: man is but an ass, if he go about to expound this dream. Methought I was--there is no man can tell what. Methought I was,--and methought I had,--but man is but a patched fool, if he will offer to say what methought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream: it shall be called Bottom's Dream, because it hath no bottom...

But shapes that come not at an earthly call, Will not depart when mortal voices bid.

Without their endorsement and support, a lot of my visions and plans would not happen. There are some exciting times coming.

I just have visions of him doing great things.

Hence the fool's paradise, the statesman's scheme, The air-built castle, and the golden dream, The maid's romantic wish, the chemist's flame, And poet's vision of eternal fame.