Quotes About Reality

It's funny, ain't it, that nobody holds giving men the illusion they want about themselves against wives, though they hold it against the sisters. And nobody holds it against the illusionists, though they do against spiritualists. I'm not quite sure how to explain what I'm driving at, except it seems to me that these things is all linked.

When we love, it is hard to forgive the beloved for not being the person we imagined them.

You think you're fine. You think you get through it all right. And then you wake up sure the cold sweat on your face is blood, so real you can taste it.

If she could externalize, make the emotion other, she would not believe it.

All right, they were cute. But she couldn't afford to start thinking of them as human.

They build narratives to make things make sense. To make whatever they're thinking of doing seem normal.

When has the Light ever been gentle to innocence?

A faint shudder ran through the ship when we dropped out of white space into reality.

Continuity of experience is an illusion, old man.

In the answer to one of these ancient philosophical questions, it turns out that nobody's idea of green is the same as anybody else's idea of green, at least on a species-level-but at least the physics for comparing them all is pretty straightforward.

Lies are stories.

Tomorrow, I won't have to worry about not being real anymore.

Am I just a sufficiently complicated and randomized construct that I adequately simulate intelligence? Or am I just a mock-up?

It was as if two different versions of reality coexisted in my head at the same time.

All stories are true stories, or so Will tells me.

It was a dream of London, Mehiel told Kit. A dream of England: not quite Faerie, but a place that was neither quite Faerie nor real.

Strike two for Utopia. The problem with the damned things always comes when you try to introduce actual people into your philosophical constructs.

My eyes don't quite glaze over when he starts talking about eleven-dimensional reality.

Somehow his memory for things concerning the Wolf-and Muire, for that matter-seemed very crisp. Vivid, as if only they they were real and the rest of his life had been a dream.

Reality is seldom as melodramatic as entertainment. On the other hand, reality is more random, arbitrary, and dangerous than fiction, and it's my job to understand that to exact tolerances.

So even though, to the outside world, Claire Willoughby was Simple Pleasures, Inc., Claire knew she was actually little more than window dressing for the business. Truth be told, she was so organizationally challenged, she couldn't arrange her own underwear drawer, let alone tell people how to arrange their lives.

Bishop on "At the Fishhouses" At the last minute, after I'd had a chance to do a little research in Cape Breton, I found I'd said codfish scales once when it should have been herring scales. I hope they corrected it all right. 2 Quite a few lines of "At the Fishhouses" came to me in a dream, and the scene— which was real enough, I'd recently been there—but the old man and the conversation, etc., were all in a later dream

Oh, must we dream our dreams and have them, too?

Fantasy is toxic: the private cruelty and the world war both have their start in the heated brain.