Quotes About Fantasy

Life being full of harsh realities, we seek relief from them in a variety of pleasing delusions.

Stories aren't the beauty of what did happen. They're the beauty of what could happen.

We all live best in our imaginations.

Someone parked two spots away from the red Buick. The car door opened, and a pole dancer got out. Yes, Maya knew her occupation. Long blond hair, shorts that barely covered half a cheek, a boob job that lifted them high enough to double as earrings—you didn't need the pole dancing equivalent of gaydar to see that this woman was either a pole dancer or a sixteen-year-old boy's fantasy come to life. When

most were conspiracy nuts, the kind who think Elvis and Jimi Hendrix are jamming on some island off Fiji.

Nothin's real scary except in books.

He could read two books to my one, but he preferred the magic of his own inventions. He could add and subtract faster than lightning, but he preferred his own twilight world, a world where babies slept, waiting to be gathered like morning lilies. He was slowly talking himself to sleep and taking me with him, but in the quietness of his foggy island there rose the faded image of gray house with sad brown doors.

Dill was off again. Beautiful things floated around in his dreamy head. He could read two books to my one, but he preferred the magic of his own inventions.

Asked him and he said he wasn't. Besides, nothin's real scary except on books.

Beautiful things floated around in his dreamy head. He could read two books to my one, but he preferred the magic of his own inventions.

The answer is dreams. Dreaming on and on. Entering the world of dreams and never coming out. Living in dreams for the rest of time.

Nothing in the real world is as beautiful as the illusions of a person about to lose consciousness.

I go back to the reading room, where I sink down in the sofa and into the world of The Arabian Nights. Slowly, like a movie fadeout, the real world evaporates. I'm alone, inside the world of the story. My favourite feeling in the world.

I dream. Sometimes I think that's the only right thing to do. To dream, to live in the world of dreams. But it doesn't last forever. Wakefulness always comes to take me back.

The better you were able to imagine what you wanted to imagine, the farther you could flee from reality.

If this was a dream, then the world I'm living in itself must all be a dream.

Six pull-tabs lay in the ashtray like scales from a mermaid.

But utopias don't exist, of course, anywhere in any world. Like alchemy or perpetual motion.

I don't know, I feel like this isn't the real world. The people, the scene: they just don't seem real to me.

They were too clear and detailed to have been a fantasy, and too whole and beautiful to have been real.

Ionako je sve to mašta. Nas dvojica pijemo i maštamo, to je sve. Druga?ije je od niskobudžetnih filmova u kojima ti ?esto igraš. Za maštu nema budžeta.

There are plenty of things in history that are best left in the shadows. Accurate knowledge does not improve people's lives. The objective does not necessarily surpass the subjective, you know. Reality does not necessarily extinguish fantasy.

The best way to think about reality, I had decided, was to get as far away from it as possible.

I could hear hundreds of elves sweeping out my head with their tiny brooms. They kept sweeping and sweeping. It never occurred to any of them to use a dustpan.