Quotes About Illusion

The Phantom: 'You know, Christine, I think I have hallucinations.

Gaston Leroux

A false hope gives only false comfort.

T]here may be no more depressing place on the planet than the floor of a casino.

It should not be possible for Christians to be disillusioned. We should have no illusions in the first place. Our faith is in Jesus Christ alone.

Time turns our lies into truths.

She was staring at the low ceiling, and I had the feeling that there was another Severian there, the kind and even noble Severian who existed only in Dorcas's mind. All of us, I suppose, when we think we are talking most intimately to someone else, are actually addressing an image we have of the person to whom we believe we speak.

Time turns our lies into truth

We are like children who look at print and see a serpent in the last letter but one, and a sword in the last.

Certain mystes aver that the real world has been constructed by the human mind, since our ways are governed by the artificial categories into which we place essentially undifferentiated things, things weaker than our words for them.

Gold is the kindest of all hosts when it shines in the sky, but comes as an evil guest to those who receive it in the hand.

I have a bird. Inside." She patted the flat stomach below her small breasts, and for a moment Nicholas thought she had really found food. "She sits in here. She has tangled a nest in my entrails, where she sits and tears at my breath with her beak. I look healthy to you, don't I? But inside I'm hollow and rotten and turning brown, dirt and old feathers, oozing away. Her beak will break through soon.

The painting was of that irritating kind which dissolves into mere blobs of color unless it can be seen as a whole. I took a step backward to get a better perspective of it, then another … With the third step, I realized I should have made contact with the wall behind me, and that I had not. I was standing instead inside the picture that had occupied the opposite wall: a dark room of ancient leather chairs and ebony tables.

All of us, I suppose, when we think we are talking most intimately to someone else, are actually addressing an image we have of the person to whom we believe we speak.

Each picture in the room beyond contained a book. Sometimes they were many, or prominent; some I had to study for some time before I saw the corner of a binding thrusting from the pocket of a woman's skirt or realized that some strangely wrought spool held words spun like thread.

We are as solid as most truly false things are--a dance of particles in space. Only the things no one can touch are true...

When my grandson-in-law heard about it, he was fairly struck flat for half a day. Then he pasted up a kind of hat out of paper and held it over my stove, and it went up, and then he thought it was nothing that the cathedral rose, no miracle at all. That shows what it is to be a fool—it never came to him that the reason things were made so was so the cathedral would rise just like it did. He can't see the Hand in nature.

The problem with fantasy is the greatest benefit of fantasy: it prevents us from living in the present moment. But the present now is different from the present then.

The fantasy of the taste of M&Ms is more enchanting than the taste of M&Ms

The perfect life, the perfect lie, I realised after Christmas, is one which prevents you from doing that which you would ideally have done (painted, say, or written unpublishable poetry) but which, in fact, you have no wish to do.

Though there was nowhere one so busy as he/ He was less busy than he seemed to be.

Another whispered low to his fellow, and said, "He is mistaken, for it is rather like an illusion created by some Sorcerer, as conjurers do at those great feasts." Of sundry doubts did they thus chatter and debate, as ignorant people are wont to do about things that are crafted more cunningly than they can comprehend in their ignorance, and they usually expect the worst.

Just so, lo, thus does it fare with us. For he who seems the wisest, by Jesus, is the greatest fool, when it comes to the proof. And he who seems the most honest is a thief. That shall you come to know, ere that I leave you, when I have made an end of my tale.

We are so dependent on luck, good and bad. I think of those men and women—cases faintly parallel to mine—who live in one room and eat poorly and lie in bed, since their incomes are too small for any marked activity. Their lives would be unbearable were it not for their hopes of good luck and fears of bad. They have, in fact, little of either; but illusion magnifies what there is.