Quotes About Reality

No matter how hard we try to ignore it, the mind always knows truth and wants clarity.

Each member of the family in his own cell of consciousness, each making his own patchwork quilt of reality - collecting fragments of experience here, pieces of information there. From the tiny impressions gleaned from one another, they created a sense of belonging and tried to make do with the way they found each other.

When am I happy and when am I sad and what is the difference? What do I need to know to stay alive? What is true in the world?

So this is what insanity is. Not goofy behavior, but watching a sudden change in the world you used to know.

maybe you think up North is way different from down South. Don't believe it and don't count on it. Custom is just as real as law and can be just as dangerous.

These and other inanimate things she saw and experienced. They were real to her. She knew them. They were the codes and touchstones of the world, capable of translation and possession. She owned the crack that made her stumble; she owned the clumps of dandelions whose white heads, last fall, she had blown away; whose yellow heads, this fall, she peered into. And owning them made her part of the world, and the world a part of her.

They did not believe Nature was ever askew–only inconvenient. Plague and drought were as "natural" as springtime. If milk could curdle, God knows robins could fall.

It never looked as terrible as it was and it made her wonder if hell was a pretty place too.

And fantasy it was, for we were not strong, only aggressive; we were not free, merely licensed; we were not compassionate, we were polite; not good, but well behaved. We courted death in order to call ourselves brave, and hid like thieves from life. We substituted good grammar for intellect; we switched habits to simulate maturity; we rearranged lies and called it truth, seeing in the new pattern of an old idea the Revelation and the Word

For a long time now he knew that anything could appear to b something else, and probably was.

she needed to confirm its presence. Like the keeper of the lighthouse and the prisoner, she regarded it as a mooring, a checkpoint, some stable visual object that assured her that the world was still there; that this was like and not a dream. That she was alive somewhere, inside, which she acknowledged to be true only because a thing she knew intimately was out there, outside of herself.

his bed was where they slept and where the great thing people warned about or giggled about took place. It was not so much painful as dull. Cee thought it would get better later. Better turned out to be simply more, and while the quantity increased, its pleasure lay in its brevity.

I like the way the City makes people think they can do what they want and get away with it.

facts can exist without human intelligence, but truth cannot.

More than the rest, they killed the flirt whom folks called Life for leading them on.

The light, therefore, was always misleading.

But looking at it she saw that it never was the flesh and blood figure of her dreams. Just something she had grabbed up to drape her dreams over.

A perfect thing is not everything.

a dream is just a nightmare with lipstick

Ä°nsan hayallerin nas?l suya düÅŸtüÄŸüne iliÅŸkin hakikati öÄŸrenmenin peÅŸindeyse eÄŸer, asla bir hayalperestin sözüne inanmamal?d?r.

And fantasy it was, for we were not strong, only aggressive, we were not free, merely licensed, we were not compassionate, we were polite, not good, but well behaved.

truth is trouble.

Men leaped and I let myself be caught. For a while, anyway, until my sex life became sort of like Diet Coke—deceptively sweet minus nutrition.

Six months into the bliss of edible sex, free-style music, challenging books and the company of an easy undemanding Bride, the fairy-tale castle collapsed into the mud and sand on which its vanity was built. And Booker ran away.