Quotes About Reality

Las cosas nunca son lo que parecen..., todo bueno o todo malo. Sería mucho más fácil si lo fueran.

Sometimes, when there's been an accident and reality is too sudden and strange to comprehend, the surreal will take over.

Me gustaría pensar que hay algo de cierto en el tópico amor vincit omnia. Pero si algo he aprendido en esta corta y triste vida, es que ese tópico es mentira. El amor no lo conquista todo. Y el que lo crea es un insensato.

out of a clear blue sky the heroes and heroines abandoned their adventures for some dull sweetheart, got married and had families, and generally started acting like a bunch of cows.

Everything was going beautifully, on the brink of taking wing, and I had a feeling that I'd never had, that reality itself was transforming around us in some beautiful and dangerous fashion, that we were being driven by a force we didn't understand, towards an end I did not know.

What if you had never seen the sea before? What if the only thing you'd ever seen was a child's picture - blue crayon, choppy waves? Would you know the real sea if you only knew the picture? Would you be able to recognize the real thing even if you saw it?

Percebi que me imaginara, durante anos, em outro local mas que, na realidade, permaneci lá o tempo inteiro

Whe can't escape who we are

Ninguém nunca, jamais, vai conseguir me convencer de que a vida é uma coisa incrível e gratificante. Porque, esta é a verdade: a vida é catástrofe.

Y eso es lo que hacen todos los grandes maestros. Rembrandt. Velázquez. Lo último de Tiziano. Construyen la ilusión, el truco…, pero te acercas un paso más y se desintegra en pinceladas. Abstracto, como de otro mundo. Una clase de belleza totalmente diferente y mucho más profunda. Es y no es.

sen ona hangi yüzünü gösterirsen o da büyük bir samimiyet ve derinlik illüzyonu yaratarak sana deÄŸiÅŸtirmeye gerek bile duymadan senin ayn?n? yans?t?yor, oysa asl?nda kendisi t?pk? bir ayna kadar k?r?lgan ve s??.

One likes to think there's something in it, that old platitude amor vincit omnia. But if I've learned one thing in my short sad life, it is that that particular platitude is a lie. Love doesn't conquer everything. And whoever thinks it does is a fool.

Because I don't care what anyone says or how often or winningly they say it: no one will ever, ever be able to persuade me that life is some awesome, rewarding treat. Because, here's the truth: life is catastrophe. The basic fact of existence—of walking around trying to feed ourselves and find friends and whatever else we do—is catastrophe.

Beauty alters the grain of reality.

What if you had never seen the sea before? What if the only thing you'd ever seen was a child's picture—blue crayon, choppy waves? Would you know the real sea if you only knew the picture? Would you be able to recognize the real thing even if you saw it? You don't know what Dionysus looks like. We're talking about God here. God is serious business.

I've come to believe that there's no truth beyond

Most people seemed satisfied with the thin decorative glaze and the artful stage lighting that, sometimes, made the bedrock atrocity of the human predicament look somewhat more mysterious or less abhorrent.

La belleza altera la textura de la realidad.

But it was also a bit like a failed artist working as a security officer at an art gallery, or a failed author working in a bookshop. There's a constant reminder of how close you are to the thing you want, and how far away from it you are.

how can I see so clearly that everything I love or care about is illusion, and yet -- for me, anyway -- all that's worth living for lies in that charm?

between 'reality' on the one hand, and the point where the mind strikes reality, there's a middle zone, a rainbow edge where beauty comes into being, where two very different surfaces mingle and blur to provide what life does not: and this is the space where all art exists, and all magic.

beauty alters the grain of reality. And I keep thinking too of the more conventional wisdom: namely, that the pursuit of pure beauty is a trap, a fast track to bitterness and sorrow, that beauty has to be wedded to something more meaningful.

Beauty is harch.

And as much as I'd like to believe there's a truth beyond illusion, I've come to believe that there's no truth beyond illusion.