Quotes About Perspective

reality is not a thing conferred upon us or which exists; it is something that we have to manufacture ourselves.

Maalesef, ben var?m ve siz de vars?n?z. Maalesef.

But don't you see that the whole trouble lies here. In words, words. Each one of us has within him a whole world of things, each man of us his own special world. And how can we ever come to an understanding if I put in the words I utter the sense and value of things as I see them; while you who listen to me must inevitably translate them according to the conception of things each one of you has within himself. We think we understand each other, but we never really do.

For the drama lies all in this—in the conscience that I have, that each one of us has. We believe this conscience to be a single thing, but it is many-sided.

Kendini öldürmek isteyen birisi neden kendisi için deÄŸil de baÅŸkalar? için ölü olduÄŸunu hayal eder?

how can we ever come to an understanding if I put in the words I utter the sense and value of things as I see them; while you who listen to me must inevitably translate them according to the conception of things each one of you has within himself.

So you think, do you, it is only houses that are built? I am continually building myself and building you, and you are doing the same, inversely.

Non si può giudicare il mondo d'un artista con un criterio di giudizio attinto altrove che da questo mondo medesimo

Ma un poeta può anche non badare a queste cose, che son di fatto. Un poeta può veder le stelle anche quando non si vedono, e viceversa poi non vedere tant'altre cose, che tutti gli altri vedono.

Sí! En eso consiste todo», pensaba, «en ese atropello. Cada uno quiere imponer a los otros el mundo que lleva dentro como si fuese el de afuera, y que todos deban verlo a su modo, y que los otros no puedan ser sino como los ve él».

Yet everything that may be imagined of us is really possible, even though it may not be true for us. True for us? Others laugh. It is true for them. So true is it, understand, that if you do not hold fast to that reality which is bestowed upon you as your own, they are in a position to bring you to realize that the reality which they confer upon you is truer than any of your own.

Ti compiango! Ma tu devi far la tua parte, com'io la mia. Il giuoco è questo. L'ha capito finanche lei! Ciascuno la sua, fino all'ultimo; e stai pur sicuro che dal mio perno io non mi muovo, avvenga che può. Mi vedo e vi vedo giocare, e mi diverto. Basta.

se un rosignolo dà via le penne della coda, può dire: mi resta il dono del canto; ma se le fate dar via a un pavone, le penne della coda, che gli resta?

But only in order to know if you, as you really are now, see yourself as you once were with all the illusions that were yours then, with all the things both inside and outside of you as they seemed to you—as they were then indeed for you.

Il était désormais inutile d'avoir une valeur pour soi. Aucune vérité ne subsistait, puisque aucune chose en soi n'était vraie. Chacun la considérait comme telle, à sa manière, pour en peupler son désert, et pour donner une consistance quelconque, jour par jour, à sa vie.

Quanti conservano la beata regolarità delle esperienze non possono immaginare quali cose possono essere reali o verosimili per chi viva fuori d'ogni regola, come appunto quell'uomo lí.

Saben, en cambio, sobre qué se apoya todo? Se lo digo yo. Sobre la presunción —Dios se la conserve siempre— de que la realidad, tal como es para ustedes, debe ser y es igual para todos los demás.

The world looked to them like a great roll of butcher paper unfurled on a table.

Numbers never lie, after all: they simply tell different stories depending on the math of the tellers.

Otimista é quem acha que tem que haver uma luz no fim deste túnel. Pessimista é o que não tem muita certeza de que isto é um túnel.

We are all, I realise, even as I write this, merely moving closer to our deaths. At the end of this sentence I am closer to mine than I was at the beginning. It's relentless. It's a savage thing. And yet for a long time I've carried with me a sense of life opening out. Evidently it's some kind of protective illusion.

Like all junkies, I guess I'd thought for a long time that my environment was the problem. My situation. The people I knew.

It never ceased to amaze me how much I could hate the world when I wasn't stoned. It seemed such a hostile place. And yet, get a good blast in me, and my love for humanity was abundant.

I think that hurting gives us a way to measure being happy. How can you know one without knowing the other.