A dream, all a dream, that ends in nothing, and leaves the sleeper where he lay down, but I wish you to know that you inspired it.

— Sydney Carton, Sydney Carton, Doctor Manette (Orson Welles)

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12 seconds sound clip from the A Tale of Two Cities (1938) classic radio drama series episode.

You can hear this line at 00:34:40.560 in the radio play.

Quote context

[...]

- Miss Manette,

- I know very well that you can have no tenderness for me. I ask for none. I'm even thankful that it cannot be.

- Without it, is there nothing I can do for you, Mr. Carton?

- All you can ever do for me is done. I wish you to know that you've been the last dream of my soul.

- In my degradation, I've not been so degraded, but the sight of you with your father and of this house has stirred old shadows that I thought had died out of me.

- A dream, all a dream, that ends in nothing, and leaves the sleeper where he lay down, but I wish you to know that you inspired it.

- Will nothing of it remain?

- No, Miss Manette, no.

- No, I shall never be better than I am. I'm like one who died young. All my life might have been.

- Don't be afraid. I'll never refer to this again, only in the hour of my death I shall hold sacred this one good remembrance that my last avowal of myself was made to you, and that my name and faults, and miseries were gently carried in your heart.

- Do you believe this of me, Miss Manette?

- I do.

- And this, too, believe.

[...]

Top rated lines from this movie

A dream, all a dream, that ends in nothing, and leaves the sleeper where he lay down, but I wish you to know that you inspired it.
Don't be afraid. I'll never refer to this again, only in the hour of my death I shall hold sacred this one good remembrance that my last avowal of myself was made to you, and that my name and faults, and miseries were gently carried in your heart.
For you and for any dear to you, I would do anything. Remember sometimes. Remember that there is a man who would give his life to keep a life you love beside you.
All day, tumbrils go through the streets, feeding the guillotine, and at its foot, splashed with blood, sit the women knitting late into the night, counting dropping heads.
I neither want any thanks or merit any. It was nothing to do in the first place, and I don't know why I did it in the second.

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