Quotes About Reality

I had gone to no such place but to the smoke of cafes and nights when the room whirled and you needed to look at the wall to make it stop, nights in bed, drunk, when you knew that that was all there was, and the strange excitement of waking and not knowing who it was with you, and the world all unreal in the dark and so exciting that you must resume again unknowing and not caring in the night, sure that this was all and all and all and not caring.

The world was not wheeling anymore. It was just very clear and bright and inclined to blur at the edges.

That is what we are supposed to do when we are at our best - make it all up - but make it up so truly that later it will happen that way.

All good books are alike in that they are truer than if they really happened and after you are finished reading one you feel that it all happened to you and after which it all belongs to you.

Later he had seen the things that he could never think of and later still he had seen much worse.

And we could have all this,' she said. 'And we could have everything and every day we make it more impossible.' 'What did you say?' 'I said we could have everything.' 'We can have everything.' 'No, we can't.' 'We can have the whole world.' 'No, we can't.' 'We can go everywhere.' 'No, we can't. It isn't ours anymore.' 'It's ours.' 'No, it isn't. And once they take it away, you never get it back.

Some lived in it and never felt it but he knew it all was nada y pues nada y nada y pues nada.

Everything became quite unreal finally and it seemed as though nothing could have any consequences.

I know now that there is no one thing is true–it is all true.

You may not believe this. No one believes this, but it is true.

Los buenos libros se parecen en que son más ciertos que si hubiesen sucedido de verdad y en que, cuando terminas de leerlos, sientes que todo te sucedió y después, que todo te pertenece: lo bueno y lo malo, el éxtasis, el remordimiento y el dolor, la gente y los lugares y cómo estaba el tiempo.

Every true story ends in death.

Non sopporto il pensiero che la mia vita stia scorrendo via così in fretta e che io in realtà non la viva.

everything kills everything else in some way. Fishing kills me exactly as it keeps me alive. The boy keeps me alive, he thought. I must not deceive myself too much.

I knew that now, reading it in the oversensitized state of my mind after too much brandy, I would remember it somewhere, and afterward it would seem as though it had really happened to me.

For many things are not as they appear. Discipline must come from trust and confidence.

The only writing that was any good was what you made up, what you imagined. That made everything come true. Everything good he had ever written he'd made up. None of it had ever happened. Other things had happened. Better things, maybe. That was what the family couldn't understand. They thought it was all experience. Nick in the stories was never himself. He made him up. Of course he had never seen an Indian woman having a baby. That was what made it good. Nobody knew that.

It was not so much that he lied as that there was no truth to tell.

Yes, I said. Isn't it pretty to think so?

He could see the fish and he had only to look at his hands and feel his back against the stern to know that this had truly happened and was not a dream.

All remembrance of things past is fiction.

There isn't any need to deny everything there's been just because you are going to lose it.

The movies ruined everything. Like talking about something good. That was what had made the war unreal. Too much talking.

If the others heard me talking out loud they would think that I am crazy,' he said aloud. 'But since I am not crazy, I do not care.