Quotes About Illusion

Man shouldn't be able to see his own face – there's nothing more sinister. Nature gave him the gift of not being able to see it, and of not being able to stare into his own eyes. Only in the water of rivers and ponds could he look at his face. And the very posture he had to assume was symbolic. He had to bend over, stoop down, to commit the ignominy of beholding himself. The inventor of the mirror poisoned the human heart.

The inventor of the mirror poisoned the human heart.

Everything is theater.

Again I see you, But me I don't see!, The magical mirror in which I saw myself has been broken, And only a piece of me I see in each fatal fragment - Only a piece of you and me!...

I look at myself but I'm missing. I know myself: it's not me.

Nunca amamos a nadie: amamos, sólo, la idea que tenemos de alguien. Lo que amamos es un concepto nuestro, es decir, a nosotros mismos.

I am still obsessed with creating a false world, and will be until I die.

Does a flower really have beauty? Does a fruit really have beauty? No: they have only color and form And existence. Beauty is the name of something that doesn't exist But that I give to things in exchange for the pleasure they give me. It means nothing. So why do I say about things: they're beautiful?

Only poets and philosophers see the world as it really is, for only to them is it given to live without illusions. To see clearly is to not act.

Ese episodio de la imaginación al que llamamos realidad

My dreams are a stupid shelter, like an umbrella against lightning.

As figuras imaginárias têm mais relevo e verdade que as reais.

Beauty is the name of something that doesn't exist

Civilisation consists in giving something a name that doesn't belong to it and then dreaming over the result. And the false name joined to the true dream does create a new reality. The object does change into something else, because we make it change. We manufacture realities.

Só esta liberdade nos concedem Os deuses: submetermo-nos Ao seu domínio por vontade nossa. Mais vale assim fazermos Porque só na ilusão da liberdade A liberdade existe.

Every gesture is a dead dream.

We never love anyone. What we love is the idea we have of someone. It's our own concept – our own selves – that we love.

With slight misconceptions of reality we fabricate our hopes and beliefs, and we live off crusts that we call cakes, like poor children who make-believe they're happy.

But everything is absurd, and dreaming least of all.

Who am I behind this unreality? I don't know. I must be someone. And if I do not seek to live, to act or to feel, it is — believe me — so as not to disturb the already laid-down lines of my false persona.

El cansancio de todas las ilusiones y de todo cuanto hay en las ilusiones: su pérdida, la inutilidad de tenerlas, el cansancio anticipado de tener que tenerlas para perderlas, la amargura de haberlas tenido, la vergüenza intelectual de haberlas tenido sabiendo que tendrían ese final.

And when the lie begins to give us pleasure, let us speak the truth in order to lie to the lie.

Art frees us, through illusion, from the squalor of being.

Passa uma borboleta por diante de mim E pela primeira vez no Universo eu reparo Que as borboletas não têm cor nem movimento, Assim como as flores não têm perfume nem cor. A cor é que tem cor nas asas da borboleta, No movimento da borboleta o movimento é que se move, O perfume é que tem perfume no perfume da flor. A borboleta é apenas borboleta E a flor é apenas flor.