Quotes About Illusion

The world lives in a sort of fantasy were everything is supposed to look and be a certain way compared to a standard set by fake magazines, fake tv, fake media of all sorts. We've been completely brainwashed in this way and well this is exactly what happens in the "real" world, and it's only seen by "real" people who haven't been fooled.

Our ego consciousness — namely, who we think we are, or what we believe real — is at best a thin wafer floating on an iridescent sea. In any moment, we view the world through a distorting lens and make choices based on what the lens allows us to see, not what lies outside its frame.

I've owned a thousand houses that I've never built, she said. Never had the money to build. Couldn't have used if I had had the money. Never really wanted to build maybe. But I still own the houses.--Karen Holmes in From Here To Eternity

If a man could just hang onto one illusion he could still love. The main trouble with being an honest man was that it lost you all your illusions.

If he had smiled why would he have smiled? To reflect that each one who enters imagines himself to be the first to enter whereas he is always the last term of a preceding series even if the first term of a succeeding one, each imagining himself to be first, last, only and alone whereas he is neither first nor last nor only nor alone in a series originating in and repeated to infinity.

O, undoubtedly yes, and very potable so, but one who deeper thinks will always bear in the baccbuccus of his mind that this downright there you are and there it is is only all in his eye. Why?

He did not want to play. He wanted to meet in the real world the unsubstantial image which his soul so constantly beheld.

A dream of favours, a favourable dream. They know how they believe that they believe that they know. Wherefore they wail.

I bar the candles,.... I bar the magic-lantern business.

He doesn't know what he's saying. Taking a little more than is good for him. Absinthe, the greeneyed monster. I know him. He's a gentleman, a poet. It's alright.

Then, in that case, all the rest, all that I thought I thought and all that I felt I felt, all the rest before me now, in fact... O, give it up old chap! Sleep it off!

Ä°nsan düÅŸüncenin bask?s? alt?ndaki bir müziÄŸi dinlemekte olduÄŸunu san?r.

P.C. Robort)

If Dann's dane, Ann's dirty, if he's plane she's purty, if he's fane, she's flirty, with her auburnt streams, and her coy cajoleries, and her dabblin drolleries, for to rouse his rudderup, or to drench his dreams. If hot Hammurabi, or cowld Clesiastes, could espy her pranklings, they'd burst bounds agin, and renounce their ruings, and denounce their doings, for river and iver, and a night. Amin !

Epi oinopa ponton.

Withasly glints in. Andecoy glants out. They ramp it a little, a lessle, a lissle. Then rompride round in rout.

I wanted to believe he was mad. Unfortunately, I no longer knew what madness was.

Varina could weave a spiderweb and sprinkle it with gold dust and lure you inside and wrap it around both your eyes and your heart, all the while making you enjoy your own entrapment.

The false dawn, with its illusions and mist-wrapped softness, can be as inadequate and fleeting as Morpheus' gifts. CHAPTER 2 The days became warmer the first week in April, and on some mornings I went out on the salt at dawn and seined

The false dawn, with its illusions and mist-wrapped softness, can be as inadequate and fleeting as Morpheus' gifts.

But every longtime cop will tell you that the criminals who scared him most were the ones who looked and talked like the rest of us and committed deeds that no one, absolutely no one, ever wants to have knowledge of. Five

Up close, she could see the sharp, cold, look that she constantly shot at Mr. Treviso, particularly when there was a break, and she was waiting to come in. It shattered illusion for Mildred. She preferred to remain at a distance, to enjoy this child as she seemed, rather than as she was.

You damned, silly-looking cluck, are you trying to drive me insane? Ã¢â'¬Â¦ Yes, I could write music. I can write you a motet, or a sonata, or a waltz, or a cornet solo, with variation—anything at all, anything you want. And not one note of it will be worth the match it would take to burn it. You think I'm hot stuff, don't you? You, lying there every day, dreaming about rainbows.

The sky is realest: the sky cannot Be touched and in the mirror it cannot Be touched. He is enchanted. The rare azur Is flawless; happily blurred blue is no whit Less exquisite than blue unblurred. And what He misses he would never know was there.