Nicolas Roeg Quotes

… a fairyland to us, for all intents and purposes—a land of enchantment and awful mystery.

Memories are doing funny things to us.

I can write, He floated up to the ceiling, and a baby rabbit came out of his pocket, grew wings, and flew away. And you will believe that it really happened. That's magic, isn't it?

When I started working with mirrors, it seemed to be the perfect material to stand in for that waiting.

I love mirrors. They let one pass through the surface of things.

Let a man turn to his own childhood - no further - if he will renew his sense of remoteness, and of the mystery of change.

Was it a light only she could see? A gypsy's spell? A mystery?

When I was little there was a picture in one of our books, a dark place into which a single weak ray of light came slanting upon two faces lifted out of the shadow.

No magic. I do believe you might have taken it all with you when you went away.

The great times were never as great as they seem in the rearview mirror.

All mirrors are magical mirrors, and we never see our faces in them.

My idea of magic doesn't have much to do with stage tricks and illusions. The whole world abounds in magic.

You can't just plan a moment when things get back on track, just as you can't plan the moment you lose your way in the first place. But standing there alone on the landing, I thought of Grandma Halley and how she'd held me close against her lap as we watched the sky together. I'd always thought I couldn't remember, but suddenly in that moment, I closed my eyes and saw the comet, finally, brilliant and impossible, stretching above me across the sky.

Your past is just that, the past, a place within your psyche with no more reality to it then the picture of a castle on a postcard is made from stone.

closed my eyes and listened. It was like music I'd heard all my life, even more than "This Lullaby." All those keystrokes, all those letters, so many words. I brushed my fingers over the beads and watched as her image rippled, like it was on water, breaking apart gently and shimmering before becoming whole again.

Remembrance is a form of meeting.

Do you remember we were sitting there by the water?

Sometimes," he sighed, "I think the things I remember are more real than the things I see.

No mirror keeps its glances.

I've brought you a mirror. Look at yourself and remember me.

If I know a song of Africa, of the giraffe and the African new moon lying on her back, of the plows in the fields and the sweaty faces of the coffee pickers, does Africa know a song of me? Will the air over the plain quiver with a color that I have had on, or the children invent a game in which my name is, or the full moon throw a shadow over the gravel of the drive that was like me, or will the eagles of the Ngong Hills look out for me?

When we reflect on our past sentiments and affections, our thought is a faithful mirror, and copies its objects truly; but the colours which it employs are faint and dull, in comparison of those in which our original perceptions were clothed.

The difference between a Miracle and a Fact is exactly the difference between a mermaid and a seal.

Memories just get richer with time.