Quotes About Reality

A pause. Then Ludmilla's voice resumes slowly as if she were trying to express something not easily defined. "Yes, it is. I like it very much… Still, I wish the things I read weren't all present, so solid you can touch them; I would like to feel a presence around them, something else, you don't quite know what, the sign of some unknown thing…

And at the bottom of each of those eyes I lived, or rather another me lived, one of the images of me, and it encountered the image of her, the most faithful image of her, in that beyond which opens, past the semiliquid sphere of the irises, in the darkness of the pupils, the mirrored hall of the retinas, in our true element which extends without shores, without boundaries.

La menzogna non è nel discorso, è nelle cose.

O bella! Questo suddito qui che c'è ma non sa d'esserci e quel mio paladino là che sa d'esserci e invece non c'è. Fanno un bel paio, ve lo dico io!

It is only when they have the photos before their eyes that they seem to take tangible possession of the day they spent, only then that the mountain stream, the movement of the child with his pail, the glint of sun on the wife's legs take on the irrevocability of what has been and can no longer be doubted.

You pick your way past young men and girls sitting on the steps, you wander bewildered among those austere walls which students' hands have arabesqued with outsize capital writing and detailed graffiti, just as the cavemen felt the need to decorate the cold walls of their caves to become masters of the tormenting mineral alienness, to make them familiar, empty them into their own inner space, annex them to the physical reality of living.

The only truth I can write is that of the instant I am living.

For the brief span of our lifetimes, everything remains there on the screen, distressingly present; first images of eros and premonitions of death catch up with us in every dream; the end of the world began with us and shows no signs of ending; the film we thought we were merely watching is the story of our lives.

Lucretius wants to write the poem of matter, but he warns us from the start that the reality of matter is that it's made of invisible particles. He

It is only when they have the photos before their eyes that they seem to take tangible possession of the day they spent, only then that the mountain stream, the movement of the child with his pail, the glint of the sun on the wife's legs, take on the irrevocability of what has been and can no longer be doubted. Everything else can drown in the unreliable shadow of memory.

Mentre attendo che il mondo non scritto si chiarisca ai miei occhi, c'è sempre una pagina scritta a portata di mano, in cui posso tornare a tuffarmi; m'affretto a farlo, con la più grande soddisfazione: là almeno, anche se riesco a capire solo una piccola parte dell'insieme, posso coltivare l'illusione di star tenendo tutto sotto controllo.

When my eyes closed, however, in the darkness I saw that her words had created a new world, like all words that are not true. I

Kiddo,' he said tiredly, 'you have to realize, a sizable number of the population gets its start in a back seat, that's just life.

P24- the power of school loss to divide social reality has no boundaries education becomes unworldly and the world becomes noneducational

A second major illusion on which the school system rests is that most learning is the result of teaching. Teaching, it is true, may contribute to certain kinds of learning under certain circumstances. But most people acquire most of their knowledge outside school, and in school only insofar as school, in a few rich countries, has become their place of confinement during an increasing part of their lives.

Debunking the Bunk

You all have a universally fatal condition. It's called pre-death.

For Winnicott, the "transitional space" between the internal world and "reality" becomes a space for creative play and imagination

Appearances are not held to be a clue to the truth. But we seem to have no other.

How do we know that we exist? No one knows. Not so, you say. I think, therefore I exist. But how do you know that you think? No one knows that either. You just do.

The new is preceded by the destruction of the old, that which has become guilty, and not out of the possebilities which we possess, but in the impossible situation which confronts us, that the new shows itself as God's creative act. God's new reality is always like a novum ex nihilo . When all hopes have died, there comes the wave of the future like a spirit of resurrection into the dead bones (Ezek. 37), creating hope against hope.

But we cannot make whatever encompasses us an object without moving out of it. We do not see the eyes we see with. We cannot perceive the place where we are standing unless we leave it.

Living in an age of advertisement, we are perpetually disillusioned.

At this moment, or any moment, we're only a cross-section of our real selves. What we really are is the whole stretch of ourselves, all our time, and when we come to the end of this life, all those selves, all our time, will be us—the real you, the real me. And then perhaps we'll find ourselves in another time, which is only a kind of dream.