Time is an illusion, only the keepers of the illusion are real, and the reality they have spun, keeps us, until we set upon the path of the dream.
Reading always calmed me down: filling my head with other - made up - people's problems and conflicts made my own seem less terrible, less real.
The hero was the sort of character you could feel yourself falling in love with, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that he wasn't real
But I am the real Strider, fortunately. I am Aragorn son of Arathorn; and if by life or death I can save you, I will.
The sightseers would have been disappointed, as the real thing always makes a poorer show than the fake. ("I'm Dangerous Tonight")
I think that's the real loss of innocence: the first time you glimpse the boundaries that will limit your potential.
Fiction should be a place of lollipops and escape. Real life is depressing enough--I, for one, don't want to read about make believe misery, too.
A mental choice, absent a real heart change, is no choice at all. We couldn’t force ourselves to be something we were not. That just couldn’t happen. And it didn’t.
...I think I might die if I don't kiss you right now. A real-life kiss.
[Caine] "Interesting. Me, I've always wanted to know who my real parents were." [Sam] "Let me guess: you're secretly a wizard who was raised by muggles.
The most precious gift that marriage gave me was the constant impact of something very close and intimate, yet all the time unmistakably other, resistant - in a word, real.
Real kings and queens are people whose heads are crowned with dreams as they sit on the throne of passion. They rule with visions in the regalia of inspirations!
I put my hand next to his shoulder on the door frame, not touching, but real close. “Look, Blondie. I’m not asking you to bottom, just to fucking navigate.
None of the people have any real interest in a science, who only begin to be enthusiastic about it when they themselves have made discoveries in it.
I have a theory that as long as you have one good friend, one real friend, you can get through anything.
Real friendship or love is not manufactured or achieved by an act of will or intention. Friendship is always an act of recognition.
But it was not real freedom, he realised. It was the freedom that comes from lack of choice and moreover, was the kind that only came with decisions delayed. It was a freedom of inaction.
You've asked me out tons of times." "Not really. I've made inappropriate suggestions and frequently pushed for nudity. But I've never asked you out on a real date.
She wondered what it sounded like when your heart broke. Glass shattering? The thundering roar of falling mountains? Or maybe the squishy rip of a real heart?
A brick could be used as an identifier, for all those people with no real identities. I’m talking about clones, because just like bricks, each clone is exactly like the next.
I have no heartbeat; I breathe no oxygen; I'm nothing to anyone; I'm not real. And yet I'm cursed with a brain that won't rest; it torments me.
