Quotes About Reality

The concept of dreaming is known to the waking mind but to the dreamer there is no waking, no real world, no sanity; there is only the screaming bedlam of sleep.

Yet suppose further. Suppose that all worlds, all universes, met at a single nexus, a single pylon, a Tower. And within it, a stairway, perhaps rising to the Godhead itself. Would you dare climb to the top, gunslinger? Could it be that somewhere above all of endless reality, there exists a room?...' You dare not.' And in the gunslinger's mind, those words echoed: You dare not.

Passing time adds false memories and modifies real ones.

Adults are the real monsters.

Life is a crap carnival with shit prizes.

Reality is thin ice, but most people skate on it their whole lives and never fall through until the very end. We did fall through, but we helped each other out. We're still helping each other.

we need ghost stories because we, in fact, are the ghosts.

You grew up, became a man, had to adjust to taking less than you hoped for; you discovered the dream-machine had a big OUT OF ORDER sign on it.

He began to cry, not hysterically or screaming as people cry when concealed rage with tears, but with continuous sobs who has just discovered that he's alone and will be for long. He cried because safety and reason seemed to have left the world. Loneliness was a reality, but in this situation madness was also remotely a possibility.

People are blind to explanations that lie outside their perception of reality.

The essential and defining characteristic of childhood is not the effortless merging of dream and reality, but only alienation. There are no words for childhood's dark turns and exhalations. A wise child recognizes it and submits to the necessary consequences. A child who counts the cost is a child no longer.

this life we think we're living isn't real. It's just a shadow play, and I for one will be glad when the lights go out on it. In the dark, all the shadows disappear.

Wish in one hand, shit in the other, see which one fills up first.

I write for love, but love doesn't pay the bills.

There are things of such darkness and horror—just, I suppose, as there are things of such great beauty—that they will not fit through the puny human doors of perception.

What about reality, you ask? Well, as far as I'm concerned, reality can go take a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut.

We're all dying. The world's just a hospice with fresh air.

I think reality is thin, you know, thin as lake ice after a thaw, and we fill our lives with noise and light and motion to hide that thinness from ourselves.

And I wonder if there is really any point to what I'm doing, or what I'm supposed to make of a world where a man can get rich playing let's pretend

There is no such thing as a happy ending. I never met a single one to equal Once upon a time.

So what, ghosts can't hurt you. That's what I thought then.

Time slowed and reality bent; on and on the eggman went.

The low bird is not picked tenderly out of the dust by its fellows; rather, it is dispatched quickly and without mercy.

All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.