Nicolas Cage Quotes

Because horror on Earth is real and it is every day. It is like a flower or like the sun; it cannot be contained.

I call it suffering and pain, they call it entertainment.

There are metaphors more real than the people who walk in the street.

The myth holds us, therefore, not through its romantic flavor, not the remembrance of beauty of some bygone age, not through the possibilities of fantasy, but because it expresses to us something real and existing in ourselves, as it was to those who first stumbled upon the symbols to give them life.

I love the fact that the present is the only real reality we have.

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.

This was real. And it was me. I had lived that life, and I had died that death. I was staring at the very end of me.

In animation, you can throw away people's defense. You can go right to the center of things, right through inside someone's heart. The characters anyway, they do represent different aspects of all of us - and put them all together, you get a human being. And so it's got a wonderful purity, a real purity that's so moving, exiting, everything.

To choose and be so adamant about this exact location just a block or two away from 9/11, again is that knife, it feels like.

We've endured too many tragedies. And each time I learn the news I react not as a President, but as anybody else would - as a parent.

The plot is very important because writers have to play fair with their readers, but no one would care about the plot if the character work wasn't there. So, basically every book I work on starts with me thinking not just about the bad thing that's going to happen, but how that bad thing is going to ripple through the community, the family of the victim, and the lives of the investigators. I am keenly aware when I'm working that the crimes I am writing about have happened to real people. I take that very seriously.

Words! Mere words! How terrible they were! How clear, and vivid, and cruel! One could not escape from them. And yet what a subtle magic there was in them! They seemed to be able to give a plastic form to formless things, and to have a music of their own as sweet as that of viol or of lute. Mere words! Was there anything so real as words?

Every single person has a story that will break your heart. And if you're paying attention, many people... have a story that will bring you to your knees. Nobody rides for free.

I don't watch like Sci-fi or things like that, I'm always more like real life is so endlessly fascinating to me.

The heaviest of burdens is simultaneously an image of life's most intense fullfillment. The heavier the burden, the closer our lives come to the earth, the more real and truthful they become. Conversely, the absolute absence of a burden causes man to be lighter than air, to soar into new heights, take leave of the earth and his earthly being, and become only half real, his movements as free as they are insignificant. What then shall we choose? Weight or lightness?

How was it possible that entire lives could change, could be destroyed, and that streets and buildings remained the same, she wondered.

The more we try to live in the world of words, the more we feel isolated and alone, the more all the joy and liveliness of things is exchanged for mere certainty and security. On the other hand, the more we are forced to admit that we actually live in the real world, the more we feel ignorant, uncertain, and insecure about everything.

I'd still thought that everything I thought about that night-the shame, the fear-would fade in time. But that hadn't happened. Instead, the things that I remembered, these little details, seemed to grow stronger, to the point where I could feel their weight in my chest. Nothing, however stuck with me more than the memory of stepping into that dark room and what I found there, and how the light then took that nightmare and made it real.

And all the while, I suppose," he thought, "real people were living somewhere, and real things happening to them.

Pain or love or danger makes you real again.

tragedy in the theater opens our eyes so that we can discover and appreciate the heroic in reality.

My friends, I tell you repeatedly that the illusion that Life creates is very, very intelligent. The illusion itself is intelligent! Just understand how intelligent the intelligence must be in order to create an intelligent illusion. The intelligent illusion is so intelligent it will appear real to man every moment of his daily life!

When 9/11 happened, the world, certainly in the United States of America, there was a unity. There was this sense of unity. And I have to say just from a personal level, it really felt good. We all felt the same way.

And therefore I looked down into the great pity of a person’s life on this earth. I don’t mean that we all end up dead, that’s not the great pity. I mean that he couldn’t tell me what he was dreaming, and I couldn’t tell him what was real.

The experience of life teaches us that being like someone in love is more real, because everything is uncertain.