Quotes About Reality

To what extent does the physical universe as a whole—since it is made up of the same basic energy—respond to our expectations? To what extent do our expectations create all the things that happen to us?

Maybe he should turn around. Go back and tell them that's what life was, a long series of things that didn't go down the way you thought they would. Hell with it. Either they'd figure it out or they wouldn't. Most people never did.

Think we choose our lives? No. But I don't think they're thrust upon us, either. What it feels like to me is, they're forever seeping up under our feet.

You're so American. You believe everything is possible, everything will come. I know differently.

there comes a time in life, when you realize that everything is a dream; only those things which are written down have any possibility of being real.

There are really two kinds of life. There is, as Viri says, the one people believe you are living, and there is the other. It is this other which causes the trouble, this other we long to see.

And all of this, dependent, closely woven, all of it is deceiving. There are really two kinds of life. There is, as Viri says, the one people believe you are living, and there is the other. It is this other which causes the trouble, this other we long to see.

Certains visages vous subjuguent, on s'en détourne avec le sentiment de renoncer même à respirer. Demain, j'aurai oublié tout ça, se dit-il. Le matin, tout est différent, les choses deviennent réelles.

The more clearly one sees this world, the more one is obliged to pretend it does not exist.

There comes a time when you realize everything is a dream. And only those things preserved in writing have any possibility of being real.

You think when you have love that love is easy to find, that everyone has it. It's not true. It's very hard to find.

We live untruth amid evidence of untruth.

Some things, as I say, I saw, some discovered, and some dreamed, and I can no longer differentiate between them. But my dreams are as important as anything I acquired by stealth. More important, because they are the intuitive in its purest state. Without them, facts are no more than a kind of debris, unstrung, like beads. The dreams are as true and manifest as the iron fences of France flashing black in the rain. More true, perhaps. They are the skeleton of all reality.

I'm bored with happy couples. I don't believe in them. They're false. They're deceiving themselves.

the mind does not distinguish between reality and what is vividly imagined. It puts all of that stimuli to work in shaping your reality and your future. So it's a good idea to think right.

As the pages that follow confirm, race may not be a reality, but racial thinking is, and, as such, warrants closer examination.

Finality is death. Perfection is finality. Nothing is perfect. There are lumps in it, said the Philosopher.

Half the places I have been to, never were. I make things up. Half the things I say are there cannot be found. When I was young I told a tale of buried gold, and men from leagues around dug in the woods. I dug myself. But why? I thought the tale of treasure might be true. You said you made it up. I know I did, but then I didn't know I had. I forget things, too.

You have made the moon, The Jester said. That is the moon.

It didn't work, said the King. The cloak of invisibility didn't work. Yes, it did, said the Royal Wizard. No, it didn't, said the King. I kept bumping into things, the same as ever. The cloak is supposed to make you invisible, said the Royal Wizard. It is not supposed to keep you from bumping into things. All I know is, I kept bumping into things, said the King.

I'll never know the right answer for sex and marriage, sense and mirage.

See is deceiving. It's eating that's believing.

Con una visión perfecta uno se ve inextricablemente atrapado en el mundo cotidiano, prisionero de la realidad (...) Para la persona con ojos de halcón, la vida no posee ninguno de aquellos aspectos suaves que para mí se confunde con la fantasía

Does not people's preoccupation these days with drugs, alcohol, medication and self deception prove that the truth not only hurts, but it is torture to bear?