Quotes About Reality

The eye sees all, but the mind shows us what we want to see.

Is it possible he should know what he is, and be that he is?

Thou talk'st of nothing. True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasty; Which is as thin of substance as the air; And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his face t the dew-dropping south.

Existen más cosas entre el cielo y la tierra que las que sueñas en tu filosofía.

she shall scant show well that now shows best.

But I have that within which passes show. these but the trappings and the suits of woe

Coward dogs most spend their mouths when what they seem to threaten runs far before them.

A dream itself is but a shadow.

The best in this kind are but shadows, and the worst are no worse if imagination amend them.

Why, then, 'tis none to you; for there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so: to me it is a prison.

Put plainly, there is a natural moral law, existing in reality, i.e., not invented by man, which transcends and trumps our desires. Something is right or wrong, whether we like it or not.

I sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright Who art cold as Hel, as dark as night

When the devout religion of mine eye Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires, And these, who, often drowned, could never die, Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars! One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun.

You see we do, yet see you but our hands And this the bleeding business they have done: Our hearts you see not; they are pitiful

The sleeping and the dead are but as pictures. Lady Macbeth

Thoughts are but dreams till their effects be tried.

Young men's love, then, lies      Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.

Sometime we see a cloud that's dragonish, A vapor sometime like a bear or lion, A towered citadel, a pendant rock, A forked mountain, or blue promontory With trees upon't that nod unto the world And mock our eyes with air. Thou hast seen these signs: They are black vesper's pageants.

In all my life only that dream is real.

How far is't call'd to Forres? What are these So wither'd and so wild in their attire, that look not like the inhabitants o' the earth, And yet are on't? Live you? or are you aught That man may question? The earth hath bubbles, as the water has, And these are of them. Whither are they vanish'd? Into the air; and what seem'd corporal melted As breath into the wind. Would they had stay'd!

O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard, Being in night, all this is but a dream, Too flattering-sweet to be substantial

Come on, come on; you are pictures out of doors, Bells in your parlours, wild cats in your kitchens, Saints in your injuries, devils being offended, Players in your housewifery, and housewives in your beds.

All that glitters is not gold Often you have heard that told.

Mad I call it, for to define true madness, what is't to be nothing else but mad?