Quotes About Reality

No fundo ela não passara de uma caixinha de música meio desafinada.

Qué se puede hacer con la verdad de que todo el mundo esté un poco triste y un poco solo.

I find the greatest serenity in hallucination.

Do you know it's a lie? That I didn't dream about you?

What can you do with the truth that everyone's a little sad and a little alone.

What did I know about whatever it was that others obviously saw in me? how would I know if I went around with my stomach pressed into the dust of the ground. Truth has no witness? being isn't knowing? If a person doesn't look and doesn't see, does the truth exist anyway? THe truth that doesn't transmit itself even to those who can see. Is that the secret of being a person?

Qué soy? Soy: estar de pie ante un espanto. Soy: lo que he visto. No entiendo y temo entender, la materia del mundo me espanta, con sus planetas y sus cucarachas

I want the material of things. Humanity is drenched with humanization, as if that were necessary; and that false humanization trips up man and trips up his humanity. A thing exists that is fuller, deafer, deeper, less good, less bad, less pretty. Yet that thing too runs the risk, in our coarse hands, of becoming transformed into "purity", our hands that are coarse and full of words.

The world had reclaimed its own reality, and, just like after a catastrophe, my culture had ended: I was merely a historical fact. Everything in me had been reclaimed by the beginning of time and by my own beginning. I had passed on to a first, primary plane, I was in the silence of the winds and in the age of tin and copper - at the first age of life.

Facts are words spoken by the world.

The chicken lives as if in a dream. She has no sense of reality. All the chicken's fright comes because they're always interrupting her reverie. The chicken is a sound sleep. . . . The chicken has plenty of inner life. To be honest, the only thing the chicken really has is inner life. Our vision of her inner life is what we call "chicken.

Upon the rubble horses would reappear announcing the rebirth of the old reality, their backs without riders. Because thus it had always been. Until a few men would tie them to wagons, once again erecting a city that they wouldn't understand, once again building, with innocent skill, the things. And then once more they'd need a pointing finger to give them their old names.

My expectations closed the world to me.

For her reality was too much to be believed.

Ne olduÄŸumu bilmediÄŸimden, "olmamak" gerçeÄŸe en yak?n olduÄŸum yerdi: en az?ndan madalyonun öteki yüzü kontrolümde: en az?ndan "-mamak"a sahiptim, tersime sahiptim. O zaman benim için neyin iyi olduÄŸunu bilmiyordum; benim için kötü olana da böylece ?s?nm?? oldum.

Ela acreditava em anjo e, porque acreditava, eles existiam" (A Hora da Estrela)

When living comes to pass, one wonders: but was that it? And the answer is: that is not only it, that is exactly it.

No quiero tener la terrible limitación de quien vive sólo de lo que puede tener un sentido. Yo no: lo que quiero es una verdad inventada.

E - não esquecer que a estrutura do átomo não é vista mas sabe-se dela. Sei de muita coisa que não vi. E vós também. Não se pode dar uma prova da existência do que é mais verdadeiro, o jeito é acreditar. Acreditar chorando.

I am going to create what happened to me. Only because living isn't tellable. Living isn't livable. I shall have to create upon life. And without lying. Yes to creation, no to lying. Creation isn't imagination, it's running the huge risk of coming face to face with reality.

Si esta historia no existe, pasará a existir. Pensar es un acto. Sentir es un hecho.

I don't want to have the terrible limitation of those who live merely from what can make sense. Not I: I want an invented truth.

é claro que a história é verdadeira embora inventada – que cada um a reconheça em si mesmo porque todos nós somos um e quem não tem pobreza de dinheiro tem pobreza de espírito ou saudade por lhe faltar coisa mais preciosa que ouro – existe a quem falte o delicado essencial.

I am transfiguring reality—what is it that's escaping me? why don't I reach out my hand and take it? It's because I only dreamed of the world but never saw it.