Quotes About Surreal

Hey", he said again. "I'm gonna go down to Mrs. Jackson's place and murder her whole family. Then I'm gonna fly to the moon and eat some chickens. Be right back." "Okay," she murmured.

His life was ridiculous.

The NRA was laying down its weapons. Yankee fans were rooting for the Boston Red Sox. The French were eating English food and loving it. Matthew was sure all those things were happening.... This was the proverbial cold day in hell, and Matthew was living it.

Dead as a doornail, yet dreaming of Venice.

Sometimes, when there's been an accident and reality is too sudden and strange to comprehend, the surreal will take over.

hard to believe that the world had ended and yet somehow these ridiculous activities kept grinding on.

Sometimes, when there's been an accident and reality is too sudden and strange to comprehend, the surreal will take over. Action slows to a dreamlike glide, frame by frame; the motion of a hand, a sentence spoken, fills an eternity. Little things—a cricket on a stem, the veined branches on a leaf—are magnified, brought from the background in achingly clear focus.

How do you feel? he asked him. Like a military academy, said Arthur. Bits of me keep on passing out.

High on a rocky promontory sat an Electric Monk on a bored horse.

During a recitation by their Poet Master Grunthos the Flatulent of his poem "Ode to a Small Lump of Green Putty I Found in My Armpit One Midsummer Morning" four of his audience died of internal hemorrhaging, and the President of the Mid-Galactic Arts Nobbling Council survived by gnawing one of his own legs off.

It folded back on itself like something that M. C. Escher, had he been given to hard nights on the town, which it is no part of this narrative's purpose to suggest was the case, though it is sometimes hard, looking at his pictures, particularly the one with all the awkward steps, not to wonder, might have dreamed up after having been on one, for the little chandeliers which should have been hanging inside were on the outside pointing up.

I shall sit alone in a darkened room, sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything but a little grey old head, and in that little grey old head a peculiar vision of hideous blue and gold dangling things flashing in the light, and the smell of sweat, cat food and death.

Many had seen it as clinching proof that the whole of known creation had finally gone banana.

He should have known it was all wrong the moment they started hanging grand pianos over the sea-monster pool in the atrium.

If you've done six impossible things this morning, why not round it off with breakfast at Milliways, the Restaurant at the End of the Universe?

Oh freddled gruntbuggly... he began. Spasms wracked Ford's body - this was worse than even he'd been prepared for.

decided to start smaller again. New York has gone. No reaction. He'd never seriously believed it existed anyway. The dollar, he thought, has sunk for ever. Slight tremor there. Every Bogart movie has been wiped, he said to himself, and that gave him a nasty knock. McDonald's, he thought. There is no longer any such thing as a McDonald's hamburger. He passed out. When he came round a second later he found he was sobbing for his mother.

A team of seven three-foot-high market analysts fell out of it and died, partly of asphyxiation, partly of surprise. Two hundred and thirty-nine thousand lightly fried eggs fell out of it too, materializing in a large wobbly heap on the famine-struck land of Poghril in the Pansel system. The whole Poghril tribe had died out from famine except for one last man who died of cholesterol poisoning some weeks later.

Anna-Louise leans over and whispers in my ear. This is so surreal, she says, I think I'm turning into a melting clock.

I watched Harry closely as he read the joke and then… burst out laughing. In fact, he started shaking with laughter. It was a surreal moment, sitting nervously with my consultants, watching Harry Reid convulse in hysterics over the idea of Anne Frank playing drums in the attic. Finally, he turned to me. I just shrugged.

One person goes off and works in Houston the other person goes off to London and you're on the phone to each other and somebody is paying you to kiss somebody else. It's very bizarre being an actor.

I was, like, 'I really wanna see an Eric Rohmer movie take place in a Bert I. Gordon universe.' Where there's a story going on that's about, you know, loss and desire, but with a giganticized-animal element.

The best times to visit the Gobi and Three Camel Lodge are June, and September through October. By the beginning of November, it is ferociously cold, while October can swing surreally between warm days and clear, chilly nights and frosty mornings dusted with snow - perfect.

Robert Preston in 'The Last Starfighter' had an aura. It was almost a surreal experience meeting him. He exuded charm, warmth and that movie star magnetism that is impossible to describe.