Quotes About Illusion

But [he] had lost god, and all his family and friends were staying behind with his imaginary friend. A silly dream goes away and takes with it your whole real life.

He hath awakened from the dream of life.

Peace, peace! he is not dead, he doth not sleep -- he hath awakened from the dream of life -- 'Tis we, who lost in stormy visions, keep with phantoms an unprofitable strife.

I had rather not have any more of my hopes and illusions mocked by sad realities.

War is a kind of superstition, the pageantry of arms and badges corrupts the imagination of men.

Siamo noi che, perduti in tempestose visioni, conduciamo una vana lotta contro gli spettri, e in una folle trance con il coltello dello spirito colpiamo, invulnerabili, nulla.

The dragon is a creature of the imagination, because dragons do not exist.

The loveliest of faces are to be seen by moonlight, when one sees half with the eye and half with the fancy.

he told a story about the days when he was a reporter himself and how he had gotten so close to story that he finally couldn't write it...When I stared at something long enough, the lines blurred and I could no longer see it for what it was. One thing became another.

Love gets everything all screwed up. It's one of those lies that ruin the world.

Normalcy was the byword, even when it was a lie.

Stars are attributed w/ intelligence they don't have, beauty they haven't worked for, loyaly & love they are incapable of reciprocating, and strength they do not possess. They are treated like a beautiful vase of cut flowers. When wilted, simply replaced w/ new blooms.

Collin, the man who cannot be killed off, whose identity is both branded on him and rendered illegible, challenges, or defies, the very coherence of such an entity, suggesting the possibility that the very subject of The Human Comedy, human society itself, is at bottom an illusion if not a fraud.

Not to be taken in is something Père Goriot as a whole teaches: it's about learning to see the world as it is, not as it claims to be.

The illusion of mastery is an example of poor metacognition: what we know about what we know. Being accurate in your judgment of what you know and don't know is critical for decision making.

The familiarity with a text that is gained from rereading creates illusions of knowing, but these are not reliable indicators of mastery of the material. Fluency with a text has two strikes against it: it is a misleading indicator of what you have learned, and it creates the false impression that you will remember the material.

rising familiarity with a text and fluency in reading it can create an illusion of mastery.

Siempre he esperado con ilusión hacerme adulto, porque pensaba que el mundo adulto era... bueno... adulto, que los adultos no eran exclusivistas ni desagradables, que la idea de ir a la última o de ser sofisticado o popular dejaría de marcar la vida social, pero empezaba a darme cuenta de que el mundo de los adultos era tan absurdamente brutal y peligoros en lo social como lo era en el reino de la infancia.

Everything I've ever told you, including this, is a lie.

I've always been after the trappings of great luxury. But all I've got hold of are the trappings of great poverty. I've got hold of the wrong load of trappings, and a rotten load they are too, ones I could have very well done without.

YOU SEE THEM SOMETIMES. They're just out of the corner of your eye, when you're not expecting them, and sometimes if you close your eyes very, very tightly, and open them quickly, there will be a quick flash of them behind your eyelids before they dissipate. They are the echoes of deja vu, they are the regrets that are fleeting, they are that which you didn't know you missed... They are everywhere and nowhere.

Faith is an admirable trait. It's good to have faith in another person. But when faith is used as a substitute for reality, then it becomes a crutch for refusing to deal with that reality.

You believe what you must in order to stave off the conviction that it's all a tale told by an idiot

There is a point when life, having showered us with jewels for nothing, begins to exact our life's blood for paste.