Quotes About Illusion

Christmas always sucked when I was a kid because I believed in Santa Claus. Unfortunately, so did my parents. So I never got anything.

It's relatively easy, you know, when you don't see someone. To kid yourself that you really don't love them any more.

If men could see us as we really are, they would be a little amazed; but the cleverest, the acutest men are often under an illusion about women: they do not read them in a true light: they misapprehend them, both for good and evil: their good woman is a queer thing, half doll, half angel; their bad woman almost always a fiend.

When we're lost in thought, when we're dreaming, what have we lost? We've lost reality. Our life has escaped us.

We have a fictional "I" that we try to love and protect. We spend most of our life playing this futile game. "What will happen? How will it go? Will I get something out of it?" I, I, I—it's a mind game of illusion, and we are lost in it.

Never in all her life had she imagined that this idolized millinery could look, to those who paid for it, like the decorations of an insane monkey.

I often wonder if I could see her out of all the windows at once. But, turn as fast as I can, I can only see out of one at one time. And though I always see her, she may be able to creep faster than I can turn! I have watched her sometimes away off in the open country, creeping as fast as a cloud shadow in a high wind.

I was madly in love with not so much what was there as with what I supposed to be there.

You can't press a button to make Phil Mitchell jump over a turtle and land on a cloud (unless you've recently ingested a load of military-grade hallucinogens, in which case you can also make him climb inside his own face and start whistling colours).

President Barack Obama. President Barack Obama. Nope, still can't get used to it. It's literally too good to be true. I must've died in my sleep and am now having an insane fantasy pumped into my head by the Matrix. Any minute now Salma Hayek is going to float through the door with a tray of biscuits and I'll know the game's up.

She was thirty-five, and she did not look a minute younger.

I shrugged. "Sometimes things sound easy because they are easy." "And sometimes things that sound easy only sound that way because you're completely fucking delusional," she

You might, for example, be interested to know that the word "prestigious" is derived from the Latin praestigiae, which means "conjuror's tricks." Isn't that interesting? This word that we use to mean honorable and esteemed has its beginnings in a word that has everything to do with illusion, deception, and trickery.

It was good. It was like something inordinately beautiful and out of this world. Like I'd found an actual planet that I didn't know had been there all along. Planet Heroin. The place where there was no pain.

Podría interesarte saber, por ejemplo, que la palabra «prestigioso» deriva del término latino prestigiae, que significa «truco de prestidigitación». ¿No te parece interesante? La utilizamos para referirnos a lo honorable y lo valorado, pero esta palabra remite a la ilusión, el engaño, a las falsas impresiones.

What a guy, what a fool am I, to think my breaking heart could kid the moon

One minute, he thought, you're allowed the illusion that things are pretty much the way they've always been and always will be. Next time you turn around, some pinhead rips the world out from under you, and the weirdness starts pouring in from every direction …

When you met people, they were on their best behavior, smiles and best manners. You couldn't tell what lurked beneath the surface

A felicidade Morava tão vizinha Que, de tolo Até pensei que fosse minha Chico Buarque

My prime of youth is but a frost of cares;My feast of joy is but a dish of pain;My crop of corn is but a field of tares;And all my good is but vain hope of gain:The day is past, and yet I saw no sun;And now I live, and now my life is done.

Time has convinced me of one thing. Television is for appearing on, not looking at.

We cannot see time directly but only catch glimpses of its reflections.

Vanity plays lurid tricks with our memory, and the truth of every passion wants some pretence to make it live.

I tried to catch some fog. I mist.