Best 10944 quotes in «reality quotes» category

I have to choose what I detest - either dreaming which my intelligence hates, or action, which my sensibility loathes; either action, for which I wasn't born, or dreaming, for which no one was born. Detesting both, I choose neither; but since I must on occasion either dream or act, I mix the two things together.

I hoped that moment in time would never end, but as time goes, it unfortunately did

I hope your heart feels better.  I hope your mind is set right. I hope your love is connected to others, and you don't feel so lost and locked up. I hope everything is okay for you.  And by okay, I mean greater than ever.

Immediate reality is conditional upon individual consciousness. Thus the individual real existence of man also lies first and foremost in his consciousness. But this is as such necessarily ideational, and thus conditioned by the intellect and by the sphere and substance of the intellect's activity. The degree of clarity of consciousness, and consequently of thought, can therefore be regarded as the degree of reality of existence. But this degree of thought, or of clear consciousness of ones own existence and that of others, varies very greatly within the human race itself according to the measure of natural intellectual power, the extent to which this is developed, and the amount of leisure available for reflection. - On Psychology

i just stopped from dreaming and woke up, just like a dream to be loved back is just a dream you have to accept, it was just glimpse of hopes you wanna take it to reality, nothing more, nothing less

I know assuming is easy, and sometimes, reality does not go in the direction of the assumption, but at least, it gives us hope that things may go just right.

I knew that I had a facility with words and a power of facing unpleasant facts, and I felt that this created a sort of private world in which I could get my own back for my failure in everyday life.

I knew it wouldn't last, that the reality would come snaking back in, but for a moment I saw it, the futility of trying to mold love into an expected shape. The foolishness of whining when it didn't fit.

I know nothing I’m doing is important,' he said. 'Sure, I’m just a waste product of history. Maybe nothing I’m doing is even real, after all. But I was born right here, in this old house, and I look out the window and know what I’m seeing, and I know some people I like to be with, and I like what I do all day long, and maybe that’s all that realness is, anyway

I know, I know: it can be frustrating as hell. But people have an unfortunate habit of assuming they understand the reality just because they understood the analogy. You dumb down brain surgery enough for a preschooler to think he understands it, the little tyke’s liable to grab a microwave scalpel and start cutting when no one’s looking.

I know, I have done the right thing For, I realized The end was not scary But the journey with you was! I don’t want to Stay with the wrong one For, I don’t want my child To question me One night in the silence About your inability To love me in the right ways I know, I have done the right thing For, I realized The end was not scary But the journey with you was

I know that people can be better than they are. We are capable of bearing a great burden, once we discover that the burden is reality and arrive where reality is.

I know that the future seems hard and scary, but it will get better, I promise. It's time for you to move on. Get going.

I know you do not understand what I am trying to tell you; I know you do not understand, because it is the thing that goes deepest into my heart, and there are no words as deep down as that. How can I make you know the reality of it? The world has spattered us all over with words, with cant phrases, with sarcasm, and with fulsome flattery. The world has been so officiously eager to explain for us the thing we mean and the worth of the thing that now, when we try to speak, our meaning is veiled, concealed, smothered, by the hideous volubility of facile expression. How can it have any reality for you when you hear only words about it?

I know the difference between the confection of live as sung in a minstrel's tale and the sustaining bread of love in reality, he defended himself. Both are to be savoured in their own way.

I know the tree, I know the cloud. The only stranger is the voice inside my head.

I leaned against my door, struggling to catch my breath, and thought that maybe hell wasn't a place at all, but a thing. A contagious thing. A thing that could creep up the steps, seep through the crack under my door, grow horns and sprout fire - smelling faintly like sulfur. A thing that could sink its tendrils inside and take root, coloring everything gray and distorting a smile into a sneer. And while i got dressed for the play, swatted at my back and kept running my hands over my stomach because I could feel it, I swear, I could feel it reaching for me, trying to grab hold.

I learned a long, long time ago, that I could accomplish things in this place we call reality and yet still spend most of my time in the better reality of my mind.

I like ethics." The question of morality, how and why do people behave in certain ways. "And the principle of knowledge." I continue, "I've read this one." I show him On Certainty (book) by Ludwig Wittgenstein wrapped in my hand. "An intelligent one, that is, though, modern mind rarely appreciates such kind of writing. Not any more. I studied philosophy myself, and you know what I think? Every branch of knowledge needs philosophy for it helps to organise the flow of ideas and articulate meanings. I could not agree more to that. "Do you think it will be deserted one day?" "Probably. Nobody will bother about it any more, just like history. What is the only thing people become more interested in nowadays?" he asks. "Making money." His thumb rubs repeatedly over the tip of the index finger. "Philosophy and history are considered as eccentric. They don't usually offer people high income, and that's the inexorable reality. We've got to deal with it anyhow.

I like fairy tales, and I like dreaming. I try to weave the reality into the dream.

I Live in Poverty and That's My Inspiration

I live in a world of fantasy, so keep your reality away from me. I see what I want, I want what I see and that is all okay with me.

I live in a world where people are guided by limited imagination; only facts that are favorable to them are truths. They are unable to live anyway else. When a person finds out that a fact is against them, it's usually because it's the truth. No one tries to step outside of the edge of reason. No one tries to step beyond the edge of the world.

I live by four simple words. Love. Being. Here. Now.

I'll do that tomorrow. Then tomorrow comes and it's still today. Tomorrow is a relative term. Makes Annie a lot more depressing

Illusion is whatever is fixed or definable, and reality is best understood as its negation…

I'll tell you what's real. Real is that I was in jail for the past year, rooming with drug dealers and eating crap food your dog wouldn't touch. Real is not being able to wear your own frickin' underwear and showering with twenty-five other dicks every day while guards watch. Real is my next-door neighbor who walks like she's balancing on stilts because her leg is so fucked up from the accident. Brian, your perception of reality is totally off.

Illusion close to reality was your love, you certainly are quintessential with your licks and promises.

I love flowers for being flowers, directly. And I love trees for being trees without my thought.

I love letting my soul soar on a summer breeze, or getting entranced by the rhythm of the sea. It carries you off on its currents until you’re completely lost and then drops you back on the shores of reality with salt on your cheeks and grains of dreams running through your fingers like sand. It’s almost an occasional necessity – I guess because when you get completely, fantastically, dizzyingly lost you’re temporarily suspended between what has been and what could be. In those first moments when you come back up for air, or when you float back down to the ground, you’re living in the land of possibility, where you understand that reality can stretch just as far as you’re willing to dream.

I love the mystery of you. Wonder if I would love the reality, too.

Imagination is a reality.

Imagine, if you will: Meradinis! The stuff myths are made of! The Turtle Island of the stars – home planet to the fearsome and once legendary Corsairs. The very name of this world immediately grabbed the imaginations of young boys and girls, and universally mesmerize dreamers and romantics alike. The truth though was less romantic – and as reality so often demonstrates in real life - instead rather ugly and brutal. The Corsairs were not corn-ball comics that went about with parrots on their shoulders, saying “Arr!” to everything they encountered. They were anything but. Behind the Corsairs and their culture lay a history fraught with a struggle to survive, a vengefulness and a cruelty – and a drive to survive by preying upon others that struck fear into the hearts of neighboring fringe worlds.

Imagination is one of the few things a man can count on if he's got the reality to feed it.

Imagination is reality in one's mind waiting to come out at right time with enough efforts.

Imagination is the other end of Reality.

Imagination, persistence, perseverance, and trust transform dreams into reality.

Imagine, Bishop, that you have a beloved cat, but that your cat is not with you. If you close your eyes and further imagine you are petting your cat, the same neurons in your brains are activated as if you were petting the actual cat. Our minds may know the difference between its models and reality itself, but it prefers its models. So much so that we apprehend reality through our models, rather than directly via the sense. When I'm speaking to you, I have a little bishop in my head, and though I speak out load, I'm speaking to my little bishop. When you answer, I can only perceive you through my model of you. Mentars also make models, but they don't apprehend reality through them. They end up, not with little people in their minds, but with highly complex rule sets. They relate to their models in the same way we relate to weather models, as things to consult, but not to conflate with external reality.

I marvelled, not for the first time, at the cruel complacency of ordinary things. But no, not cruel, not complacent, only indifferent, as how could they be otherwise? Henceforth, I would have to address things as they are, not as I imagine them, for this was a new version of reality.

I'm convinced that everything I do will have a better outcome than the person who failed at it before me, because it’s the only reality I choose to accept.

I mean that certain fictions, chiefly Conan Doyle, Stevenson, but many others also, laid out a template that was more powerful than any local documentary account - the presences that they created, or "figures" if you prefer it, like Rabbi Loew's Golem, became too much and too fast to be contained within the conventional limits of that fiction. They got out into the stream of time, the ether; they escaped into the labyrinth. They achieved an independent existence. The writers were mediums; they articulated, they gave a shape to some pattern of energy that was already present. They got in on the curve of time, so that by writing, by holding off the inhibiting reflex of the rational mind, they were able to propose a text that was prophetic.

I met him, once again somewhere between dreams and reality, between desire and destiny, between dusk and dawn. In a place that can be visited but not inhabited.

I'm fighting a long term disease it's called Death and I will have it until I take my last breath

I’m in love with fiction. A fantasy that slips between my fingers when reality sets in.

Imagination, Visualization, Dreams, Birthing your reality.

I'm a novelist by trade and my job is to write a story rather than reconstruct actual events.

Im bliższa jestem rzeczywistości, tym częściej uciekam.

I'm have learn about so many things,, life is a gift that was given in conditions, Live and enjoy but never fail your purpose in the world, I'm living life yet so many things inside, I wish we can take time back and make it start over so many things we have done will we never do them again

I’m in no hurry: the sun and the moon aren’t, either. Nobody goes faster than the legs they have. If where I want to go is far away, I’m not there in an instant. (6/20/1919)

I'm left with a loneliness so overpowering it threatens to seep from my eyes. I have no one. Unfortunately, that's not fantasy. That's all-natural, 100 percent organic, unprocessed, reality.