Quotes About Surreal

His eyes had become vaporous orbs, burning with intense blue light, and his features were dark and indistinct. His pale hair glowed like the reflection of moonlight on virgin snow, moving languorously around his shoulders as if lifted by a breeze.

She drew attenuated figures, wreathed in flowing hair, wearing his face. She drew a naked man, cupping his genitals in his hands, offering them like a sacrifice. That was perhaps her own magic.

I got the impression there was somebody home behind each set of eyes, and the effect was surreal.

As they swam by me, they seemed to exist in a more hazily defined realm than our own hard-edged terrestrial one.

I've fallen into your life, like a red ROSE from another world.

A dream? With you, reality is always as a dream. There is no greater fantasy, no grander epic, than being with you.

She had the bizarre feeling of time bending all around her, as though she was from the past reading about the future, or from the future reading about the past.

It is impossible to survive in a prolonged state of reality.

Fu allora che si accorse di non essere solo all'interno del mausoleo, e che un profilo scuro si muoveva sul soffitto, avanzando silenziosamente come un insetto. Max sentì l'orologio scivolare dalle mani fredde di sudore e alzo lo sguardo. Uno degli angeli di pietra che aveva visto all'entrata camminava capovolto sul soffitto. La figura si fermò e, guardando Max, mostrò un sorriso crudele e allungò un dito accusatore contro di lui.

It is impossible to survive in a prolonged state of reality. – Carlos Ruiz Zafón, The Angel's Game (The Cemetery of Forgotten Books #2)

Wie fühlen Sie sich?', fragte der Arzt. 'Etwas in Sorge, ehrlich gesagt. Ich habe geträumt, dass mich Jesus Christus besucht und wir ein langes, tiefgehendes Gespräch geführt haben.' 'Worüber?' 'Hauptsächlich über Fußball.

All I know is that once Julián told the kids in the building that he had a sister only he could see. He said she came out of mirrors as if she were made of thin air and that she lived with Satan himself in a palace at the bottom of a lake.

There's not a night time or day time in this world. It's always in-between. Like dawn or dusk, without a sun in the sky. I sit down. The ground is wet and fleshy. I rub my hand on it. It is warm. It's Stacy's flesh. I must be at the bottom of their world, where the earth meets her body.

The paintings had a strange quality: they were figurative but there were no figures in them. They looked as if they might suddenly dissolve.

You are sitting and smoking; you believe that you are sitting in your pipe, and that your pipe is smoking you ; you are exhaling yourself in bluish clouds. You feel just fine in this position, and only one thing gives you worry or concern: how will you ever be able to get out of your pipe?

'Midnight Nation' is really interesting.

I've seen a little 'Mighty Boosh.'

Going After Cacciato

I am having a hallucination now, I don't need drugs for that.

Out the window in the distance, contradicting the prairie, a mirage of downtown Chicago ascended to a kind of lurid acropolis, its light as if from nightly immolation warped to the red end of the spectrum, smoldering as if always just about to explode into open flames.

Love is love. It shows up in strange displacement.

GET RID OF MEANING. YOUR MIND IS A NIGHTMARE THAT HAS BEEN EATING YOU: NOW EAT YOUR MIND.

A strange One-Act play in the theater of dreams.

in--whoever owned this house before him, they must have been colorblind, or into hallucinogenic drugs, or both.