Quotes About Illusion

A blind life in which everything had the transparency of water.

what we think of as peacefulness is wrong and peacefulness or the realms of peacefulness are really no more than a gauge of movement, an accelerator or a brake, depending.

aunque yo sabía perfectamente que esa disposición era falsa, tan falsa como la mía, una disposición de apariencia alegre que escondía una sensación de vacío, de tristeza y desconsuelo ante nuestra propia reacción frente al vacío.

Ahora sé que la cercanía no existe. Siempre alguien tiene los ojos cerrados. Uno ve cuando el otro no ve. El otro ve cuando uno no ve.

No ha visto usted nunca a esos pájaros ridículos que bailan hasta la extenuación para conquistar a la hembra? Así era Arturo Belano, un pavorreal presumido y tonto. Y el realismo visceral, su agotadora danza de amor hacia mi. Pero el problema era que yo ya no lo amaba. Se puede conquistar a una muchacha con un poema, pero no se la puede retener con un poema. Vaya, ni siquiera con un movimiento poético.

I know I have to be like people expect, because people love to dream with me, they like to think that I love my boat of 50 metres, that I drink Cristal for breakfast, that I dance until five o'clock in the morning. I am not like that.

Nothing is so easy to fake as the inner vision.

You never see what you want to see, forever playing to the gallery.

This is one of the cruelties of the theatre of life; we all think of ourselves as stars and rarely recognize it when we are indeed mere supporting characters or even supernumeraries.

a paradox: architecture can only escape the flatness imposed by drawing through drawing.

Architecture led to the vanishing point which led to architecture.

Die in your dreams, wake up insane.

It was all so meaningless when I looked at it that way. It was meaningless in the same way as when I stood up from a game and then looked down on the scatter of playing pieces, and realized that they all were just bits of polished stone on a wooden board marked with squares. All the meaning they'd had moments before when I'd been trying to win a game were meanings that I'd imbued them with. Of themselves, neither they nor the board had any significance.

When she spoke his name, Beloved, he believed she meant it. He spoke of an adolescence I envied. Pampered, praised, educated . . . any child's dream. But we all awake from dreams.

The puppet dances, He turns flips and he jigs. His painted red smile looks happy but he is screaming, for he performs on red-hot coals. His wooden feet begin to smoke. A man comes in with a shining axe. He swings it. I think he will cut off the puppet's burning feet, but instead the axe cuts all his strings. But the man with the axe falls just as swiftly as the puppet leaps away, free.

The next was a girl with her face and arms painted white, in a gown decorated with gilt to mimic golden thread. Gilded, too, was her crown of feathers and rooster heads, and in her hands a scepter that looked more like a feather duster.

Of all the people I could lie to, I'd always been best at lying to myself.

They also found the cocooned dragons. They had no idea that was what they were, of course. They thought … who knows what they thought at first? Perhaps they seemed like massive sections of tree trunks. So they refer to it: wizardwood.

That finblead lights everything in one's life with a terrible radiance. All relationships are illuminated for what they are and for what they truly were in the past. All illusions melt away. The false is revealed as starkly as the true.

Silly me. To think there was such a thing as a safe place in the world.

Many men hope that by saying a thing they can make it so

I lose my place in time. It seems to me that we have come this way before, done these things before, perhaps even shared these words before. Sometimes I believe it so strongly that I think that today is actually a memory or a dream.

Torg, Vivacia reflected, was a piece of carrion that, overturned, now showed its working maggots to the daylight.

It seems that when dreams come true they never turn out the same way you dreamed them. They twist and turn and disappoint, leaving you wanting so much more. I don't know which to blame: the dream itself or the reality that dissolves the dream