Without birth or death, eternal, ever-existing, free, unchangeable and beyond all conditions is this Soul of man – the real Self of Man – the Atman.
Real loneliness consists not in being alone, but in being with the wrong person, in the suffocating darkness of a room in which no deep communication is possible.
The real danger is not that computers will begin to think like men, but that men will begin to think like computers.
What is so real as the cry of a child? A rabbit’s cry may be wilder But it has no soul.
What is so real as the cry of a child?
I feel, am mad as any writer must in one way be; why not make it real? I am too close to the bourgeois society of suburbia: too close to people I know I must sever my self from them, or be a part of their world: this half and half compromise is intolerable.
For me, poetry is an evasion of the real job of writing prose.
A fierce brief fusion which dreamers call real, and realists, an illusion; an insight like the flight of birds...
You have to be able to make a real creative life for Yourself, before you can expect anyone Else to provide one ready-made for you.
I want to force myself again and again to leave the warmth and security of static situations and move into the world of growth and suffering where the real books are people’s minds and souls.
Poetry is not an assertion of truth, but the making of that truth more fully real to us.
There is no absolute point of view from which real and ideal can be finally separated and labelled.
Unreal friendship may turn to real But real friendship, once ended, cannot be mended.
Anecdote: It is by no means self-evident that human beings are most real when most violently excited; violent physical passions do not in themselves differentiate men from each other, but rather tend to reduce them to the same state.
Discomfort levels in our societies are rising, or so it would seem. In theory, we invoke diversity and tolerance. But in real life, we raise our hackles and withdraw into ourselves.
The syntactical nature of reality, the real secret of magic, is that the world is made of words. And if you know the words that the world is made of, you can make of it whatever you wish.
The real truth is splintered and spread throughout time.
What we call imagination is actually the universal library of what’s real. You couldn’t imagine it if it weren’t real somewhere, sometime.
Once you have the psychedelic tool in hand then some real choices have to be made.
I believe in extraterrestrials, but I believe that real extraterrestrials are so peculiar that the job is to recognize them.