Quotes About Surreal

The walls are white as the white suits, polished clean as a refrigerator door, and the black face and hands seem to float against it like a ghost.

Some folks swear, though not at all, that, using chains, he sliced his head off--derby and all--and that the head sailed like a cannon ball through the air a quarter mile, bounced another quarter mile, and still had enough steam to cripple a horse some fellow was riding into New Marsails.

the shaven head and the man in white pants and the black woolen

Ah fuck, he's going to gnaw my arm off; I'm losing a limb. I can't go through life with one arm. I mean, fuck, I'm already a hideous rodent with no game," he said, sniffling. "I'll be a wobbly, off-balanced dipshit who lost his arm to an ass. And not even the good type of ass. "Are you crying?" "No, no, I have sweat in my eyes," he explained as the donkey's tongue kept licking his face.

But in a world turned upside down, things I thought were mine and mine alone can be taken away much more easily than I would have imagined. If my body were cut up in pieces and those pieces mixed with those of other bodies, and then if someone told me, "Find your left eye," I suppose it would be difficult to do so.

The phrase 'sodomized by a bratwurst poltergeist' suddenly flew through my mind.

Tried to escape, to block out the fact that I was being eaten alive by arachnids. For some reason the only thing I could replace it with was the image of being eaten by tiny clowns.

I reached for the knob. At the same moment it began to melt and transform, turning pink and finally taking the shape of a flaccid penis. It flopped softly against the door, like a man was cramming it through the knob hole from the other side. I turned back to John and said, 'That door cannot be opened.

Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" asked "That if Franz Kafka were here his head would explode?" "Actually, yeah.

Another bite victim lay nearby, a young man writhing as if in a seizure. Eventually his legs kicked themselves free from the rest of his body. The limbs thumped along the floor on their own like two giant polyester snakes with shoes for heads. Right behind them was a loose head stuck to a single arm, furiously biting and clawing the carpet. I felt like we might not be in control of this situation any longer.

He tried to imagine Dave walking around the streets of Tokyo. It was like picturing RoboCop in Middle Earth—

The man-shaped arrangement of meat rose up, as if functioning as one body. It pushed itself up on two arms made of game hens and country bacon, planting two hands with sausage-link fingers on the floor. The phrase "sodomized by a bratwurst poltergeist" suddenly flew through my mind. Finally it stood fully upright, looking like the mascot for a butcher shop whose profits went entirely to support the owner's acid habit.

making our way through a theme movie night (we'd picked out four films in which the ending is probably the main character's dying hallucination: Taxi Driver, Minority Report, The Shawshank Redemption, and Mrs. Doubtfire). In

an orange potato trolls the White House. If you didn't wake up screaming, you didn't wake up...

it was like fucking an electric zombie, a stiff-legged gazelle shuddering in northern catatonia.

One of the characteristics of the dream is that nothing surprises us in it. With no regret, we agree to live in it with strangers, completely cut off from our habits and friends.

This is a cycle, she thinks. Every day a fresh horror, and when it's over, this feeling of surreal detachment. A disbelief, almost, in what they just endured. The mind is magical. Human beings are magical.

The sky is scrubbed fresh and stark blue by the gone rain, but every trace of that water has evaporated from the earth around them. It feels like a dream, all that rainfall. This is a cycle, she thinks. Every day a fresh horror, and when it's over, this feeling of surreal detachment. A disbelief, almost, in what they just endured. The mind is magical. Human beings are magical.

Every day a fresh horror, and when it's over, this feeling of surreal detachment. A disbelief, almost, in what they just endured. The mind is magical. Human beings are magical.

That bastard's brain waves had infiltrated my scrotum, reconnecting my vas deferens

There was no law that said both your eyes had to be in their sockets.

I couldn't believe that I was going to die from being slowly eaten alive by chained-up elderly ladies who thought they were vampires. I'd always kind of figured that I would go peacefully in my sleep, after my wife dropped an anvil on my head.

I felt as if the whole house was like a living organism slowly and imperceptibly digesting me by the action of some stupefying gastric juice.

I am writing this sitting in the waterlogged lobby of a rotting, half-finished condominium complex. I am surrounded by cavorting freshwater seals and have two pearl-handled revolvers in my lap, a bottle of vodka in my right hand, a human body in the freezer in the kitchens behind me, and a rather large displaced rockhopper penguin staring me in the face.