It is amazing how complete is the delusion that beauty is goodness.
Love is the delusion that one woman differs from another.
I'm not crying because of you; you're not worth it. I'm crying because my delusion of who you were was shattered by the truth of who you are.
All are lunatics, but he who can analyze his delusion is called a philosopher.
You cannot connect with anyone except through reality.
The world, viewed philosophically, remains a series of slave camps, where citizens – tax livestock – labor under the chains of illusion in the service of their masters.
Knowledge is responsibility, which is why people resist knowledge.
Facts do not fall in the face of discomfort.
O how we call each other names You call me schizophrenic I call you God But we do agree on one Deluded are we both.
For me, it is far better to grasp the Universe as it really is than to persist in delusion, however satisfying and reassuring.
The only people that can't handle the truth are those that suffer so much anxiety that they will live in denial, in order to prevent their illusion from being destroyed and feeling more anxiety.
It seems sometimes that people take a deliberately myopic and fill their eyes with things seen microscopically in order not to see macrosopically.
What further helps to reveal reality is when our personal thinking ceases to take reality for granted.
When enough insane people scream in harmony that they really are healthy, they can actually start to believe themselves. Or put even more simply: people with overlapping delusions get along wonderfully.
I beseech you, in the bowels of Christ, think it possible you may be mistaken.
My father taught me that you can you read a hundred books on wisdom and write a hundred books on wisdom, but unless you apply what you learned then its only words on a page. Life is not lived with intentions, but action.
The greater the gap between self perception and reality, the more aggression is unleashed on those who point out the discrepancy.
The unity between tragedy and comedy appears then, 'Je Suis'. Neither tears of mirth nor of sorrow, and yet passing through the two.
Delusion detests focus and romance provides the veil.
The people in the hospital had been struck by her calm and the number of questions she had asked. They hadn't appreciated her inability to understand something quite obvious – that Tolya was no longer among the living. Her love was so strong that Tolya's death was unable to affect it: to her, he was still alive. She was mad, but no one had noticed. Now, at last, she had found Tolya. Her joy was like that of a mother-cat when she finds her dead kitten and licks it all over. A soul can live in torment for years and years, even decades, as it slowly, stone by stone, builds a mound over a grave; as it moves towards the apprehension of eternal loss and bows down before reality.