Quotes About Reality

And when you are humiliated all your fancy ideas about yourself and who you are and what you can accomplish and how are shriveled away suddenly in the encounter with the ground.

One of the prices we pay in the segregation of education by age is the self-referential reality that each class year and generation makes for itself. There is nothing more conservative and repressive in this world than the peer pressure of teenagers determined to enforce the unwritten codes of their world.

Hell is a place on earth. Heaven is a place in your head.

To make the private into something public is an action that has terrific repercussions in the pre-invented world. The government has the job of maintaining the day to day illusion of the one tribe nation. Each public disclosure of a public reality becomes something of a magnet that can attract others with a similar frame of reference. Thus, each public disclosure of a fragment of private reality serves as a dismantling tool against the illusion of a one tribe nation.

We do not experience things as they really are! We experience things only through a filter and that filter determines what information will enter our awareness and what will be rejected. If we change the filter (our belief system), then we automatically experience the world in a completely different way.

The world we think we see is only a view, a collective description of the world that we create through our belief systems. Accepting this fact seems to be one of the most empowering things one can do.

The zombie looks like a man, walks like a man, eats and otherwise functions fully, yet is devoid of the spark. It represents the nagging doubt that lays deep in the heart of even the most zealous believer: behind all of your pretty songs and stained glass, this is what you really are. Shambling meat. Our true fear of the zombie was never that its bite would turn us into one of them. Our fear is that we are already zombies.

They came looking for dark and terrible revelations and instead found out something even more dark and terrible: that their lives were trite and boring.

Well, they never know they're ill, do they? You can't diagnose yourself with the same organ that has the disease, just like you can't see your own eyeball. So, I suppose you just feel normal and the rest of the world seems to go crazy around you.

the whole world [is]a big, noisy puppet show meant to distract us from the fact that at the end, you'll die, and you'll probably be alone.

Fuck all of you," John retorded. "You don't even exist. We're all just a figment of my cock's imagination.

You can lie to yourself, say that you never had a choice, that you weren't cut out for this. But deep down you'll know. You'll know that humans aren't cut out for anything. We cut ourselves out. Slowly, with a rusty knife.

Some would have doubted their sanity at this point, but by now the part of my mind that issued doubts about my sanity had melted from overuse.

What do you think it's like, Father?" "What what's like?" "Being crazy. Mentally ill." "Well, they never know they're ill, do they? You can't diagnose yourself with the same organ that has the disease, just like you can't see your own eyeball. So, I suppose you just feel normal and the rest of the world seems to go crazy around you.

It's like in the moment Tasker asked to speak to us, we simultaneously split into three separate timelines. If you understand how this sort of thing could work, please write down your explanation with as much clarity and detail as you can, then throw it in the trash because who gives a shit.

You see, time is an ocean, not a garden hose. Space is a puff of smoke, a wisp of cloud.

Contrary to what TV and movies have told you, it's nearly impossible to have a hallucination that you can both see and hear—the mentally ill either just hear voices, or just see things, due to how the brain is wired.

Fred nodded and said, "So what you're saying is, if we all die, that's not even the worst-case scenario." John replied, "I'd still like to shoot a little higher than that, Freddy.

At this point, John flung himself to the ground and screamed, "YOU SHOT ME! AAARRRRGHHH!" Not a shot had been fired. I rushed to John's side. "You shot him! He has four kids! Or should I say, four orphans.

Crotch-punchingly real!

THEY SAY LOS Angeles is like The Wizard of Oz. One minute it's small-town monochrome neighborhoods and then boom—all of a sudden you're in a sprawling Technicolor freak show, dense with midgets. Unfortunately, this story does not take place in Los Angeles.

I fully recognize that all of those are things only a mentally ill person believes. Therefore, I do not believe them." Boom. Therapy accomplished.

If you've actually seen a ghost—and I assure you that you probably have, within the last month—it would have just looked like any real, solid person. It's likely nobody saw that person but you and no, you can't photograph them. You're not seeing them with your eyes.

The thing about not having parents is you don't have anyone to tell you you're heading down a path paved with grossly inaccurate expectations of what the world owes you.