Quotes About Reality

Under the hooves of the horses the alabaster sand shaped itself in whorls strangely symmetric like iron filings in a field and these shapes flared and drew back again, resonating upon that harmonic ground and then turning to swirl away over the playa. As if the very sediment of things contained yet some residue of sentience. As if in the transit of those riders were a thing so profoundly terrible as to register even to the uttermost granulation of reality

I dont believe that the world can be better than what you allow it to be. Dark a world as you live in, they aint goin to be a whole lot of surprises in the way of good news.

When smart people do dumb things it's usually due to one of two things. The two things are greed and fear. They want something they're not supposed to have or they've done something they weren't supposed to do. In either case they've usually fasten on to a set of beliefs that are supportive of their state of mind but at odds with reality. It has become more important for them to believe that to know.

Nothing's forever. It wasnt the sort of news that a cat likes to hear.

Solo hay una verdad, dijo John Grady. La verdad es lo que ocurrió. No es lo que sale de la boca de alguien.

and they would listen to her comments and then move on. That the search for its definition was inexorably buried in and subject to the definition it sought. Or that the world's reality could not be a category among others therein contained.

The darker picture is always the correct one. When you read the history of the world you are reading a saga of bloodshed and greed and folly the import of which is impossible to ignore. And yet we imagine that the future will somehow be different. I've no idea why we are even still here but in all probability we will not be here much longer.

Em qualquer acontecimento a história de todos não é a história de cada um nem tampouco a soma dessas histórias e ninguém aqui no final pode entender o motivo de sua presença pois ninguém tem como saber no que o acontecimento consiste. Na verdade, se a pessoa soubesse é bem provável que se ausentasse e como você pode ver isso não pode ser parte do plano se é que algum plano há.

If you keep pretending you're in that book, it will make you not want to live in the life you're in.

The truth's not pretty of course. No one likes to look it in the face.

Reality is a fragile thing.

Thats beautiful! Sad and beautiful, murmured Meggie. Why were sad stories often so beautiful? It was different in real life.

We all know what fun it can be to get right into a book and live there for a while, but falling out of a story and suddenly finding yourself in this world doesn't seem to be much fun at all.

So it's happened, I kept thinking, you're in the middle of a story exactly as you've always wanted, and it's horrible. Fear tastes quite different when you're not just reading about it, Meggie, and playing hero wasn't half as much fun as I'd expected.

It's the same in real life: Notorious murderers get off scot-free and live happily all their lives, while good people die - sometimes the very best people. That's the way of the world.

What was a slap for ten pages of escapism, ten pages far from everything that made him unhappy, ten pages of real life instead of the monotony that other people called the real world?

Love didn't deserve the nice reputation it had.

They're all cruel,' he said. 'The world I come from, the world you come from, and this one, too. Maybe the people don't see the cruelty in your world right away, it's better hidden, but it's there all the same.

Life is so simple when you're young, though of course that's not what it feels like to the young.

Unlike me, he realized that Dustfinger would do anything in return for such a promise. All he wants is to go back to his own world. He doesn't even stop to ask if his story there has a happy ending! Well, that's no different from real life, remarked Elinor gloomily. You never know if things will turn out well. Just now our own story looks like it's coming to a bad end.

Why did such truths only reveal themselves after they'd become lies?

After all, that was what you wanted from books: great emotions you'd never felt yourself, pain you could leave behind by closing the book if it got too bad. Death and destruction felt deliciously real conjured up with the right words, and you could leave them behind between the pages as you pleased, at no cost or risk to yourself.

The best lies stay close to the truth.

Perhaps she was more like him than he'd thought: Her home, too, had consisted of paper and printer's ink. She probably felt as lost as he did in the real world.