Best 18573 quotes in «real quotes» category

Habíamos estado viviendo en un cuento de hadas, en un sueño, pero esas cosas no son reales. [...] debo decir que creo firmemente que el amor perfecto no existe. El amor no necesita ser perfecto, sólo necesita ser verdadero.

He's basically a good man. But he doesn't know me. Any more than he knew that girl that looked after your mother. He can't know me, not the way I know him. Maybe some of these Hawaiians can, or the Indians on the reservation. They've seen their fathers humiliated. Their mothers desecrated. But your grandfather will never know what that feels like.

Hey, GreenHollyWood ruin my vision. I don't want to be gay... because what's shown in Mr.Robot it's geysish, mother fucker!

How is it every time we're talking about the real world, you manage to bring up fantasy, and every time we're talking about fantasy, you manage to bring up the real world? Travis shrugged. "My fantasies are more interesting than the real world and machines and tools are more interesting than you guys' fantasies.

Home is where the heart is. That's what they always say. But where does home begin,If you have lost your way. Do you turn to family or neighbors you don't know? You heart may wonder far and wide until you learn to grow. You go outside and look around to see what you can see From little birds too big tall trees you realize beauty is free.

How do we stop them?” Edilio asked. He raised his head, and Sam saw the distress on his face. “How do you think we stop them? When your fifteenth birthday rolls around, the easy thing is to take the poof. You gotta fight to resist it. We know that. So how are we going to tell kids this isn’t real, this Orsay thing?” “We just tell them,” Astrid said. “But we don’t know if it’s real or not,” Edilio argued. Astrid shrugged. She stared at nothing and kept her features very still. “We tell them it’s all fake. Kids hate this place, but they don’t want to die.” “How do we tell them if we don’t know?” Edilio seemed genuinely puzzled. Howard laughed. “Deely-O, Deely-O, you are such a doof sometimes.” He put his feet down and leaned toward Edilio as if sharing a secret with him. “She means: We lie. Astrid means that we lie to everyone and tell them we do know for sure.” Edilio stared at Astrid like he was expecting her to deny it. “It’s for people’s own good,” Astrid said in a low voice, still looking at nothing. “You know what’s funny?” Howard said, grinning. “I was pretty sure we were coming to this meeting so Astrid could rank on Sam for not telling us the whole truth. And now, it turns out we’re really here so Astrid can talk us all into becoming liars.

How is it that we have over 6 billion people in the world and half of them feel alone?

How to recognize what is real? To know the layers and depths of oneself, to know how to open, to know how to fill a capacious hold-all, to know one’s own quirks and nervous twitches, cravings and transparencies, and, above all the force, literally the force, of events, connections, the wild calm in every thing.

i am in need in need of something more in need of something real

Human experience is not nest and orderly, ready to be coded into predetermined categories. Real life is messy

Hygge stems from a society that is focused on people rather than things. It is linked to the language of love and to the idea that real wealth is not what we can accumulate but what we have to share.

I am care free by nature but that doesn't mean that I am careless or that I care less. I simply pass on passive-aggressive. Why dodge bullets? This world is not a place for cowards. If we are going to shoot then let's freaking shoot straight. Energy is easily recognized and understood. I don't make time anymore for people that I have to interpret beyond what they say and what they are really saying. It's not my Aspie nature. It is my angel nature. I know every thing isn't always black or white, but I am so over engaging with people who are 50 shades of grey. Be real with me or be gone....because if we aren't Really present with others then we are disconnected anyway.

I am full of mistakes and imperfections and therefore I am real ...

I am real. This”–he put his other hand over the first-“is real. You see me interacting with other people all day long, don’t you? I talk to people; I affect things in the world. I cause things to happen. I am real.” “But-but what if this whole place”-I had to suck in air again-“what if everything is inside my head? East Shoal and Scarlet and this bridge and you-what if you’re not real because nothing is real?” “If nothing’s real, then what does it matter?” he said. “You live here. Doesn’t that make it real enough?

I also think of those daily slaughters along the highways, of that death that is as horrible as it is banal and that bears no resemblance to cancer or AIDS because, as the work not of nature but of man, it is an almost voluntary death. How can it be that such a death fails to dumbfound us, to turn our lives upside down, to incite us to vast reforms? No, it does not dumbfound us, because like Pasenow, we have a poor sense of the real, and in the sur-real sphere of symbols, this death in the guise of a handsome car actually represents life; this smiling death is con-fused with modernity, freedom, adventure, just as Elisabeth was con-fused with the Virgin. This death of a man condemned to capital punishment, though infinitely rarer, much more readily draws our attention, rouses passions: confounded with the image of the executioner, it has a symbolic voltage that is far stronger, far darker and more repellent. Et cetera. Man is a child wandering lost—to cite Baudelaire`s poem again—in the "forests of symbols." (The criterion of maturity: the ability to resist symbols. But mankind grows younger all the time.)

I am kind of person who will love the real version of you no matter how bad and broken than accepting the perfect and polished but fake version of you.

I can see he thinks he's the ultimate creation, and he seems to believe every woman here is his Eve, created from his ribcage for him to enjoy. I'm both aroused and infuriated, and this is the most confusing feeling I've ever felt in my life." Brooke Dumas, REAL

I didn't lose anyone, for everyone that I lost was never really a loss, unless it was death well then I had to have words with God.

I don’t feel right about money. Remember, Anisim brought me new roubles and half roubles before the wedding, on St. Thomas’s Sunday? I stashed one package away then, and the rest I mixed in with my own … When my uncle Dmitri Filatych, God rest his soul, was still alive, he used to go for goods all the time, now to Moscow, now to the Crimea. He had a wife, and that same wife, while he went for goods, as I said, used to play around with other men. There were six children. So my uncle would have a drink and start laughing: ‘I just can’t sort out which are mine and which aren’t.’ An easygoing character, that is. And so now I can’t figure out which coins are real and which are false. And it seems like they’re all false.” “Ah, no, God help you!” “I’m buying a ticket at the station, I hand over three roubles, and I think to myself, maybe they’re false. And it scares me. I must be sick.

I don't feel like a person at all: I am something to be loaded and unloaded, like a sofa or a cuckoo clock. I am something to be tossed into a junkyard, thrown into the river, if necessary. I don't feel real anymore. I feel like I could disappear.

I don’t like psychiatrists,” Alecto told her. “Not because they don’t think I’m real, but because they have no idea what they’re doing.

(...) if a child is not allowed to enter the imaginary, he will never come to grips with the real.

If a homeless person has a funny sign, he hasn't been homeless for that long. A real homeless person is too hungry to be funny.

If nothing’s real, then what does it matter?” he said. “You live here. Doesn’t that make it real enough?

If one can exactly see the world ‘as it is’; if one can exactly see the ‘relative’ and the ‘real’, it is shukladhyan (contemplation as the Self, Pure Soul).

If you are a feminist and are not a vegan, you are ignoring the exploitation of female nonhumans and the commodification of their reproductive processes, as well as the destruction of their relationship with their babies; If you are an environmentalist and not a vegan, you are ignoring the undeniable fact that animal agriculture is an ecological disaster; If you embrace nonviolence but are not a vegan, then words of nonviolence come out of your mouth as the products of torture and death go into it; If you claim to love animals but you are eating them or products made from them, or otherwise consuming them, you see loving as consistent with harming that which you claim to love. Stop trying to make excuses. There are no good ones to make. Go vegan.

If someone says, "the Gnani Purush is happy in the 'Real' but happy or unhappy in the 'relative’", then I would say, "No, the Gnani Purush Knows the 'relative' as being the 'relative', and therefore He is happy in the relative as well.

If we give Jesus what we have, what we give Him will never be less.

If you haven’t seen, touched, or felt him, how do you know he is real?

If you are real you risk everything.

If you can be anything, be real.

If you take an objection in the ‘relative’, it is intellectual rationalism. ‘We’ don’t have intellectual rationalism. ‘We’ are abuddha (do not have intellect) in the ‘relative’, and we are a Gnani [the enlightened one] in the ‘real’.

If you speak things into existence, they will become real..

I have come to recognize that being trustworthy does not demand that I be rigidly consistent but that I be dependably real...Can I be expressive enough as a person that what I am will be communicated unambiguously?

I have loved this world in ways it could never love me back.

I have never been scared of the darkness, not even a little bit. In the dark you hear nothing but the truth, you see nothing but real faces and naked souls. On the contrary I’ve always been afraid of the light, where people talk about everything but never say a thing and where they wear a fake skin; because they do know that there is an eye watching or judging them here or there …

I have noticed that sometimes, our success, promotion and accomplishments become real when we say "no" to some things and act the right way. The potential that drives you to do that is called "self-discipline".

I have passed through some jobs that were real lemons.

I have to hurt other people in order to get what I want, I don’t have a choice but to. In life, you gotta do the right things for the wrong reasons. Or the wrong things for the right reasons.

I hope for peace on earth and for all beings to realise their inner potential.

I learnt my best lessons from some of the worst people & I look back now and think thank fuck I let you go, I deserved to grow.

I like the open minded, the old souls, lived through, the almost worn out warriors who walk this earth. They have stories that interest me, i couldn't care less for this modern era of rushing so fast with nowhere to go. Give me depth and meaning and a life worth writing about, and i'll prop a pillow and call it an arvo.

I'll tell you a secret about being happy. Sometimes you just have to pretend at it until it become real.

Imaginary happiness has an “end” and real happiness is “permanent”.

Imaginary (thinking) leads to bliss of the mind and the true (real thinking) leads to bliss of the Self (Soul).

I'm the perfect girl. You read about me in Maxim or whatever. I tell dirty jokes like I'm one of the guys, and I'm sitting there in my panties and bra so you can see I'm a piece of ass in the bargain. Except I'm real, so I come with all kinds of complications.

I must show the blacksmith and the shopkeeper once more--two years after marriage--time long enough to have made common people as common to each other as the weed by the roadside; but these are not common to each other yet, and never will be. They will never complain of being _desillusionnes_, for they have never been illuded. They look up each to the other still, because they were right in looking up each to the other from the first. Each was, and therefore each is and will be, real.

If he pursues women infront of you, you are worth more than him. If you pursue a man, because of tactless spite, he is worth more than you. We're all entitled to live to the truths in our hearts, some won't understand it & that's ok, but it's never & I mean NEVER ok to intentionally go out of your way to make another's journey harder because of the perception they've had on your own.

I just want a life of happiness, laughter and possibility, I want a passion that I call my job, to pay my bills. I want to spend my time, eating good food & making unremarkable memories with the family I have left. I want friends that can be honest enough to tell me, if I fuck up, so I can fix it & also beautiful enough to know when I'm lieing in my smile. I want a lover who isn't afraid to love me with every inch of his heart but also fearless in keeping his individual voice as we grow together. And I will have all of it, because I believe I am worthy of it.

I just want to live in a way that either wakes people up or shakes people up. Whether I have opened a wound or opened a heart, I have touched a life and helped bring a change.