Quotes About Delusion

I'm busy doing my job, and being a loudmouth doesn't appeal to me as much as when I was younger and had the youthful delusion that I was smarter than everybody else.

It's easy to trick yourself into thinking something's funnier than it is.

To enter by reason means to realize the essence through instruction and to believe that all living things share the same true nature, which isn't apparent because it's shrouded by sensation and delusion.

I learned that I never really know the true story of my guests' lives, that I have to content myself with knowing that when I'm interviewing somebody, I'm getting a combination of fact and truth and self-mythology and self-delusion and selective memory and faulty memory.

I never write to disappear and escape. The truth is exactly the opposite. Most people strike me as escaping and disappearing in one way or another - into their jobs, their daily routines, their delusions about themselves and others.

The doctor will persist in laboring under the delusion that patients want common sense instead of magic.

The historian, now witness, stumbling in the illusion that he will survive. Long enough to set the details down on parchment in the frail belief that truth is a worthwhile cause. That the tale will become a lesson heeded. Frail belief? Outright lie, a delusion of the worst sort. The lesson of history is that no one learns.

We are all lone souls. It pays to know humility, lest the delusion of control, of mastery, overwhelms. And indeed, we seem a species prone to that delusion, again and ever again . . .

It was pathetic, the raving accusations of an ego blind to its own lies.

If by that you mean that there is no progress, that even the notion of progress is a delusion, and that history is nothing more than a host of lessons nobody wants to pay attention to, then yes, there is no point. Not in writing it down, not in teaching it.

All right. Let's try something else. I take it you see no point in history.' He grunted. 'If by that you mean that there is no progress, that even the notion of progress is a delusion, and that history is nothing more than a host of lessons nobody wants to pay attention to, then yes, there is no point. Not in writing it down, not in teaching it.

No life's path is bloodless. Spill that of those blocking your path. Spill your own. Struggle on, wade the growing torrent with all the frenzy that is the brutal unveiling of self-preservation. The macabre dance in the tugging currents held no artistry, and to pretend otherwise was to sink into delusion.

Yet identities persisted. On a personal level. Freedom was little more than a tattered net, draped over a host of minor, self-imposed bindings. Its stripping away changed little, except, perhaps, the comforting delusion of the ideal. Mind bound to self, self to flesh, flesh to bone. As the Errant wills, we are a latticework of cages, and whatever flutters within knows but one freedom, and that is death.

am not the one to ask. Does the sun lift into the sky outside then collapse once more? Do bells sound to proclaim a control where none truly exists? Do mortal fools still measure the increments leading to their deaths, wagering pleasures against costs, persisting in the delusion that deeds have value, that the world and all the gods sit in judgement over every decision made or not made? Do

Exactly. Peace of mind." "Fatal delusion, you mean.

It pays to know humility, lest the delusion of control, of mastery, overwhelms.

The clothes have no emperor.

Lily found herself wondering whether his story was genuine. Perhaps he only wanted it to be. A sad chord sounded in her heart. He seemed at once lonely and deluded, waiting for the saviour he called Azazel. Lily felt Shem wold only laugh at him. No, she thought bitterly. He'll seduce him, then laugh.

The traveller's attire and long hair probably suggested untold dissipations to this conventional creature, who would scorn all males who had not enjoyed army life at some time. Enchanting delusion! The traveller envisaged many interesting encounters would be had with the landlord; his name was Mr. Eager.

But to try to achieve something massively significant in a field where you're by and large useless after your fortieth birthday—and my father was seventy-seven—is the height of both delusion and optimism.

If they are really persuaded that the army is annually established by me, that I have the sole disposal of posts and honours, that I employ this power in the destruction of liberty and the diminution of commerce, let me awaken them from their delusion.

Love is not an obsession or a delusion. Love exists in longing and appreciation.

People who're nuts never doubt their own sanity. (The Killer's Cousin)

Madmen always think it's the others who are mad.