Quotes About Illusion

When do I see a photograph, when a reflection?

Any given man sees only a tiny portion of the total truth, and very often, in fact almost perpetually, he deliberately deceives himself about that little precious fragment as well. A portion of him turns against him and acts like another person, defeating him from inside. A man inside a man. Which is no man at all.

What a tragic realm this is, he reflected. Those down here are prisoners, and the ultimate tragedy is that they don't know it; they think they are free because they have never been free, and do not understand what it means.

Every junkie, he thought, is a recording.

Sometimes I think this planet is under a spell, Elias said. We are asleep or in a trance, and something causes us to see what it wants us to see and remember and think what it wants us to remember and think. Which means we're whatever it wants us to be. Which in turn means that we have no genuine existence. We're at the mercy of some kind of whim.

We really do see astigmatically, in fundamental sense: our space and time creations of our own psyche and when these momentarily falter - like acute disturbance of middle ear. Occasionally we list eccentrically, all sense of balance gone.

Fake realities will create fake humans. Or, fake humans will generate fake realities and then sell them to other humans, turning them, eventually, into forgeries of themselves.

This is a cardboard universe, and if you lean too long or too heavily against it, you fall through.

Isn't a beautiful dream better than a cruel reality?

It's all a big racket; they're playing it on themselves. I mean, a gun goes through a famous battle, like the Meuse-Argonne, and it's the same as if it hadn't, unless you know. It's in here.' He tapped his head. 'In the mind, not the gun.

Any given man sees only a tiny portion of the total truth, and very often, in fact almost perpetually, he deliberately deceives himself about that little precious fragment as well.

He could see the tall, peeling yellow building at the periphery of his range of vision. But something about it struck him as strange. A shimmer, an unsteadiness, as if the building faded forward into stability and then retreated into insubstantial uncertainty. An oscillation, each phase lasting a few seconds and then blurring off into its opposite, a fairly regular variability as if an organic pulsation underlay the structure. As if, he thought, it's alive.

zaman. belki zaman da yuvarlakt?r, t?pk? dünya gibi. hindistana ulaÅŸmak için bat?ya doÄŸru yelken açars?n. sana gülerler ama sonunda hindistan önündedir, arkanda deÄŸil.zamanla- belki hepimiz yelken açm??, kendimizi doÄŸuda sanarak giderken, bizi bekleyen 'çarm?ha gerilmek' ten baÅŸka bir ÅŸey deÄŸildir.

Gerçeklik, ona inanmay? b?rakt???n vakit, kaybolup gitmeyendir.

Nothing is true

I never felt this way before. We are machines, stamped out like bottle caps. It's an illusion that I - I personally - really exist; I'm just representative of a type.

Maybe it's you fuckers, Fred said, who're seeing the universe backward, like in a mirror. Maybe I see it right.

We were great builders, but one day we decided to play a game. We did it voluntarily; were we such good builders that we could build a maze with a way out but which constantly changed so that, despite the way out, in effect there was no way out for us...

Reality is that which when you stop believing in it, it doesn't go away.

Entering the phone booth, he did a phone thing. Ring-ring-ring.

Of course, he snuck all this in under the guise of pulp science fiction, baiting us into believing that maybe this is all just fantasy. Only once the story is over, and we take another look at the world around us, do we realize: It's all completely true.

You stupid bastard, does what you're fighting for look so real now? Skin pigment. What a laugh! Why not eye color? Too bad nobody ever thought of that. It cuts it a little finer, but basically it's the same thing.

Everyone dwelt in it without realizing it. The Black Iron Prison was their world.

Philip K. Dick