It's really hard to separate fantasy from reality.
I realized that everything I do is fantasy, whether it is an adult movie or a kids movie.
You’re every single fantasy I've ever had.
...the wonderful poems interpreting with equal magic the romance of strange lands and times, or the modern soul, naked and unashamed, as if clothed in its own complexity; the humorous-tragic questionings of the universe; the delicious travel-pictures and fantasies; the lucid criticisms of art, and politics, and philosophy, informed with malicious wisdom, shimmering with poetry and wit.
A great city is the place to escape the true drama of provincial life, and find solace in fantasy.
The notion that the UN is some sort of dispassionate body that, “does right” and just pursues everybody’s best interests is a fantasy. Each individual nation will be pursuing their best interests. That’s the normal behavior of nation-states. It shouldn’t surprise us, but neither should we go to them for permission to do what’s in our national interests.
There's a kind of decadence about all this: If 9/11 was really an inside job, you wouldn't be driving around with a bumper sticker bragging that you were on to it. Fantasy is a by-product of security: it's the difference between hanging upside down in your dominatrix's bondage parlor after work on Friday and enduring the real thing for years on end in Saddam's prisons.
A man's primary fantasy is access to a variety of attractive women without the fear of rejection.
He who passes not his days in the realm of dreams is the slave of the days.
So wie die Verruecktheit in einem hoeheren Sinn, der Anfang aller Weisheit ist, so ist die Schizophrenie der Anfang aller Kunst, aller Phantasie. (As insanity in a higher sense, is the beginning of all wisdom, so is schizophrenia the beginning of all art, all fantasy.)
I have an unconscious burglar living in my mind: If I read something, it's mine. I can read Middle English stories, Geoffrey Chaucer or Sir Thomas Malory, but once I start moving in the direction of contemporary fantasy, my mind begins to take over.
The present moment is changing so fast that we often do not notice its existence at all. Every moment of mind is like a series of pictures passing through a projector. Some of the pictures come from sense impressions. Others come from memories of past experiences or from fantasies of the future.
The neurotic's strongest fantasy is that he has no fantasies. The real is very real to him, the unreal even more so.
One may disavow and disclaim vices that surprise us and whereto our passions transport us. But those which by long habit are rooted in a strong and anchored in a powerful will are not subject to contradiction. Repentance is but a denying of our will, and an opposition of our fantasies, which diverts us here and there.
If ambitious fantasies make people blush, and sexual fantasies make people blush and feel guilty, fantasies of violence and death may make people blush and feel guilty-and frightened too.
Living with golden fantasies of an endlessly nurtured infancy can be a neurotic refusal to grow up.
It is television's primary damage that it provides ten million children with the same fantasy, ready-made and on a platter.
... if you have nothing, you are free to choose among dreams and fantasies.
Learning is to discover that something is possible. We are using most of our energies for self-destructiv e games, self-preventing games. We prevent ourselves from growing the very moment something unpleasant, something painful comes up. At that moment we become phobic, we run away, we desensitize ourselves. Neurotic suffering is suffering in imagination, suffering in fantasy.
Art can be a kind of therapeutic, or kind of a fantasy life, or wish fulfillment...o r creating this alternate universe. Art gives me the freedom to do that.
The planet Mars -- crimson and bright, filling our telescopes with vague intimations of almost-familiar landforms -- has long formed a celestial tabula rasa on which we have inscribed our planeto-logical theories, utopian fantasies, and fears of alien invasion or ecological ruin.
People are going to think what they want to think. I let them. You can’t control perception. It’s a losing game so I don’t play. I let them lose; lose themselves in their own fantasies of what they want me to be. A rebel, an angel, a romantic, a heart breaker, a boy, a man. Perhaps I am all of those things. Perhaps I’m none. But what I am is for me to find out, not to be dictated to me. It’s for me to know.
We need to get environmentalism out of the sphere of religion. We need to stop the mythic fantasies, and we need to stop the doomsday predictions. We need to start doing hard science instead.
Life moves out of a red flare of dreams Into a common light of common hours, Until old age brings the red flare again.
Few have greater riches than the joy That comes to us in visions, In dreams which nobody can take away.
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