Quotes About Unreality

Un atribut al lucrurilor infernale e irealitatea, un atribut ce pare s? mic?oreze spaimele pe care le provoac?, dar poate c? le spore?te.

Here is the angel, who does not exist, and the devil, who does not exist; and man, who does exist, is in between them and, I cannot help it, their unreality makes him more real for me.

Tengo la sensación de estaros contando un sueño, pero inútilmente, porque ningún relato de un sueño puede transmitir la sensación del sueño, esa mezcla de absurdo, sorpresa y aturdimiento en un temblor de rebelión agónica, esa sensación de ser capturado por lo increíble, que constituye la esencia de los sueños...

A cloud of unreality hangs about men, events, discourses, purposes.

On a waiter's check pad," said Slartibartfast, "reality and unreality collide on such a fundamental level that each becomes the other and anything is possible, within certain parameters.

There is an air of unreality in debating these arcane points when the world is changing in such dramatic ways right in front of our eyes because of global warming.

Grief is selfish. It is indulged in for self-gratification, not for love. Cosmic man knows the beauty and unreality of death.

Men reform a thing by removing the reality from it, and then do not know what to do with the unreality that is left.

There are times when American politics seems like little more than two groups in a fever to prevent each other from trespassing upon their respective soothing versions of unreality

Awww, 'tis the refuge we take when the unreality of the world weighs too heavy on our tiny heads.

We spend all our lives trying to avoid reality in one way or another. I've always had a rather strong sense of unreality. I feel other people exist in a way I don't.

There is something in the clear blue warm sea of the tropics, which gives to the stranger a feeling of unreality.

It was a fairy tale, no fooling. It was unreality becoming real. This frightened her. Because people don't care for unreality becoming real. It pricks their well-fed minds, you see, with something like a hunger pang. They prefer the logical stuffiness of expectancy. It is only at certain times that they weaken, letting imagination in. That's the time to get them. ("The Disinheritors")

Within reality there is a senseless craving for unreality.

The past exists in our memories, the future only in our plans. The present is our only reality. The tree that you are aware of intellectually, because of that small time lag, is always in the past and therefore unreal. Any intellectualy conceived object is always in the past and therefore unreal. Reality is always the moment of vision before the intellectualization process takes place. There is no other reality." ~ from Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

Science fiction deals with improbable possibilities, fantasy with plausible impossibilities.

[In Bali] life is a rhythmic, patterned unreality of pleasant, significant movement, centered in one's own body to which all emotions long ago withdrew.

Excreting is the curse that threatens madness because it shows man his abject finitude, his physicalness, the likely unreality of his hopes and dreams.

The light of memory, or rather the light that memory lends to things, is the palest light of all…I am not quite sure whether I am dreaming or remembering, whether I have lived my life or dreamed it. Just as dreams do, memory makes me profoundly aware of the unreality, the evanescence of the world, a fleeting image in the moving water

They had imagined too often and too much and so they had exhausted all their possibilities. When they embraced each other's phantoms, each in his separate privacy has savoured the most refined of pleasures but, connoisseurs of unreality as they were, they could not bear the crude weight, the rank smell and the ripe taste of real flesh. It is always a dangerous experiment to act out a fantasy; they had undertaken the experiment rashly and had failed…

Like love, mourning affects the world—and the worldly—with unreality, with importunity. I resist the world, I suffer from what it demands of me, from its demands. The world increases my sadness, my dryness, my confusion, my irritation, etc. The world depresses me.

My ideas were confused. In a peculiar way, the unreality of the outer world appeared to be an extension of my own disturbed state of mind.

In the humdrum routine of personal existence, History did not matter. We were simply happy or unhappy, depending on the day. The more immersed we were in work and family, said to be reality, the greater was our sense of unreality.

Each night he added to the pattern of his fancies until drowsiness closed down upon some vivid scene with an oblivious embrace. For awhile these reveries provided an outlet for his imagination; they were a satisfactory hint of the unreality of reality, a promise that the rock of the world was founded securely on a fairy's wing.