Quotes About Reality

I now realize that to see the Major when he isn't really there must at least be preferable to seeing him when he really is there.

My mind was a little distracted from these anxieties by our encountering a singularly beautiful girl. I should mention, perhaps, lest I be thought in any wat to have misled my readers, that her figure was pudgy, her complexion sallow and her hair a rather drab shade of brown. These possible defects, however, pass unnoticed in a young woman whose expression is that of a medieval saint after a particularly satisfactory vision of the Eternal City.

Years later Fitzgerald inscribed a copy of Gatsby with what he perceived at the time to be its failings: "Gatsby was never quite real to me. His original served for a good enough exterior until about the middle of the book he grew thin and I began to fill him with my own emotional life. So he's synthetic—and that's one of the flaws of the book.

There is always half a truth in cliche.

People were made up of shit and piss and phlegm and bits and pieces of experience.

But I am not here and never have been.

Your disbelief cures nothing.

Some will call this self-indulgence (They are lucky not to know its truth) Some will know the simple fact of pain This is becoming my normality

Le propre d'une métaphore, c'est d'être réelle

Embrace beautiful lies - the chronic insanity of the sane

She predicted that when she became queen she would feel transformed—grander, nobler, wiser—but she still felt disappointingly just like herself.

The song finished playing, and Arlo remembered why it had resonated with so many people. It's nostalgic for something that isn't real, and it's sad about that. Everybody's nostalgic for glory days that never happened.

I can think of no more dangerous a position than to learn to tolerate evil in order to become accustomed to reality.

Inner beauty can fade, too.

I tend to forget that my measurement of time is designed to distract me from what's really happening.

There are no memories, just artifacts. And they're all lying.

Hey, sweet talk isn't supposed to make you cry." "I think you're out of luck." "Because that was too corny?" "Because I blinked and you didn't go away. You're real." He felt the same way. The joy that she was here, the lingering panic that it was just another dream he'd wake up from, her name an echo of desperate hope in his head.

It's all kind of a big illusion: the white picket fence and the perfect marriage and the kids. Check that box off, check that box off, and move forward.

The world the gods made is too big for us, so we make ourselves a smaller one.

I awoke in the deepest night to find I had been divided from myself. There lay my body sleeping and dreaming, and I was outside it; awakening. When we dream we may take shapes other than our own; a man may be his brother, a woman a king, and never question it. So, with the certainty born of a dream, I knew I'd become my own shadow.

It's different now, like pushing the stop lever on my camera until nothing except the war can squeeze through the lens.

I'd like to know how anyone can write the truth about us if we've never met.

When you are in my dreams, you have a face, and I know that face to be yours, but no matter how true they are, dreams are not real, and I don't know whether my dreeming mind has ever succeeded in catching your red face.

It's a strange fucking world, and mostly the joke's on us.