Quotes About Illusion

It's easier to dismiss ghosts in the daylight.

If it looks like a hallway, feels like a hallway, and acts like a hallway—is it important to figure out that it isn't a hallway?

There's something really disturbing about finding out how little you really know about something you felt like you were an expert on.

Mirror, mirror, on the wall," Asil murmured when Tad quit speaking. "Shh," said Tad. "This isn't that mirror. That mirror broke, and good riddance to it. Let's not give this one ideas, please.

Jesse sucked in her breath, and said, "It's a TARDIS." "A what?" asked Aiden. "Bigger on the inside than it is on the outside," Jesse said. She

If it looks like a hallway, feels like a hallway, and acts like a hallway -- is it important to figure out that it isn't a hallway? But curiosity is very nearly my besetting sin.

Kim lifted the lid. Inside, on a small pillow covered in white velvet, lay a gold sunburst the size of her thunbnail, hung on a delicate chain. It looked a little like the first spell she had ever cast, a small explosion of light re-created in metal, and she was not really surprised to find the card with the single word "Mairelon" scrawled across it.

Come one, come all! Prepare to be amazed by the one, the only - Mairelon the Magician!

illusion of security in the relationship. When the partner is in psychological or physical danger from the abuser, her fear is very real. By acting to protect herself, the partner protects her own spirit and regains the security

the final page of any novel is a destination, the creation of form offering the illusion of inevitability, the denial of chaos. We don't love novels because they are like life, but because they are unlike it—deftly organized, filled with the satisfaction of shape.

Fact and fiction are different truths.

Sometimes you think you know more than you really do—people, events, things that are true and things that are not. Sometimes you think you know yourself. But then, surprise, it is someone else who shows you what is really there, like the truth a photograph shows.

They're afraid of being afraid. Losing control of a world they never had controlled in the first place.

Truth comes to us in resemblance, in shade. In moonlight. In grasping what exists through what we cannot make exist.

She had thought because he loved her body that he cherished it. But now she saw that he took her body to be a dream of his own. It gave him pleasure, it gave him work, it gave him comfort, and profit. It was even more completely his body than his own, since if he needed to, he could discard it. Nothing she had imagined about who she was to him was true. At that moment, she became his widow.

You are trying to capture the fog, and no one can do that.

The sun rose and set in a land of dreams whether the clocks where right or wrong.

Deception is brutal, I'm not pretending otherwise.

All the beautiful things in this world are lies. They count for nothing in the end.

Mary had the same face as ma used to have sitting staring into the ashes it was funny that face it slowly grew over the other one until one day you looked and the person you knew was gone. And instead there was a half-ghost sitting there who had only one thing to say: All the beautiful things of this world are lies. They count for nothing in the end.

Indeed, thought will go on fooling them into the belief that more of the same will ultimately become something new.

Life was so full of irony that he found himself asking if it was nothing more than a trick played on humanity by a Grand Illusionist with a black sense of humour.

We see nobody clearly. We see only the ghosts of absent others, and mistake for reality the fictions we construct from blueprints drawn up in early childhood. This is the problem.

Perhaps it was one of those mild, sunny winter days when you have a feeling of holiday and eternity-the illusory feeling that the course of time is suspended, and that you need only slip through this breach to escape the trap that is closing around you.