D. J. MacHale Quotes

Out of the corner of one eye, I could see my mother. Out of the corner of the other eye, I could see her shadow on the wall, cast there by the lamplight. It was a big and solid shadow, and it looked so much like my mother that I became frightened. For I could not be sure whether for the rest of my life I would be able to tell when it was really my mother and when it was really her shadow standing between me and the rest of the world.

I realize that nothing's as it seems.

Our knowledge is a receding mirage in an expanding desert of ignorance.

Sometimes people think I'm wearing a wig when I'm not wearing a wig, and then sometimes they think I'm not wearing a wig when I am wearing a wig.

There can be an easy way to interpret things some times and it seems like maybe I'm on the wrong side of those interpretations a lot of those times.

You’re here,” I continued. “At least you look as if you’re here. But maybe you aren’t. Maybe it’s just your shadow. The real you may be someplace else. Or maybe you already disappeared, a long, long time ago. I reach out my hand to see, but you’ve hidden yourself behind a cloud of probablys. Do you think we can go on like this forever?

Whatever was about, whoever I had seen, and heard rocking, and who had passed me by just now, whoever had opened the locked door was not 'real'. No. But what was 'real'? At that moment I began to doubt my own reality.

I tell myself that I know you, and then when I think about it, I realize that I don't.

I was ninety-nine point nine percent sure that I was dreaming.

The whole series of my life appeared to me as a dream; I sometimes doubted if indeed it were all true, for it never presented itself to my mind with the force of reality.

Are you sure/That we are awake? It seems to me/That yet we sleep, we dream

The more I see, the less I know.

gravity, n. I imagine you saved my life. And then I wonder if I'm just imagining it.

We hear things, but we can't always see them, or, even if we do see them, we're not sure that we're seeing correctly. Hence: Invisible.

I'm not sure I know what "normal" is.

To see a shadow and think it is a tree that is a pity; but to see a tree and to think it a shadow can be fatal.

Like a word on a page that you’ve printed and read a million times, that suddenly looks strange or wrong, foreign. And you feel scared for a second, like you’ve lost something, even if you’re not sure what it is.

It's hard to tell that the world we live in is either a reality or a dream.

Sometimes when you're at your most certain, that's when everything you know is wrong.

This can't be true but I remember it.

If nothing is the way it seems, then this life is just a haunted dream.

I asked you, baby, If you understood- You told me that you didn't, But you thought you would.

You think you're winning, but it's hard to say sometimes.

I suppose therefore that all things I see are illusions; I believe that nothing has ever existed of everything my lying memory tells me. I think I have no senses. I believe that body, shape, extension, motion, location are functions. What is there then that can be taken as true? Perhaps only this one thing, that nothing at all is certain.

There is a goal but no way; what we call the way is mere wavering.