Aleksandar Hemon Quotes

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.

One can't even know what it means to be lost in reality. For instance, it is easy to know whether you are lost or not in the Sahara desert, but to be lost in reality! This is much more complex!

Lately, I feel like my life is a book written in a language I don't know how to read.

It sometimes feels like a strange movie, you know, it's all so weird that sometimes I wonder if it is really happening.

Everything is always a little surreal.

As a session player for so many years, I have found myself in rooms looking around going, 'Is this for real?'

I am genuinely a bit confused about the world, a little bit bumbling.

I opened the door and blinked out into the bright hall. I had the impression it wasn't night and it wasn't day, but some lurid third interval that had suddenly slipped between them and would never end.

…I seemed to be lying neither asleep nor awake looking down a long corridor of gray half light where all stable things had become shadowy paradoxical all I had done shadows all I had felt suffered taking visible form antic and perverse mocking without relevance inherent themselves with the denial of the significance they should have affirmed thinking I was I was not who was not was not who.

How was I supposed to know what's real and what's not? It feels like I'm the only one who doesn't know the difference.

Suddenly, the world I had scrutinised for so long was all around me, as if I had leaned forward and climbed into the television like Alice through the looking-glass. I had no idea just how deep the rabbit hole would go.

It's the strange world.' 'The strangest.

It's an abnormal world I live in. I don't belong anywhere. It's like I'm floating down the middle. I'm never quite sure where I am.

How do you document real life, when real life's getting more like fiction each day.

I have these realistic dreams and snap wide awake in the middle of the night. And for a while I can't work out what's real and what isn't... That kind of feeling. Do you have any idea what I'm saying?

I can very much relate to waking up inside of your life and saying to yourself, "How did I get here?"

I hate not knowing what to believe anymore. I hate not knowing what's real.

I don’t know what it means to live.

I have no idea where I'm going but here's the real question: What am I doing here in the first place?

The bluebells made such a pool that the earth had become like water, and all the trees and bushes seemed to have grown out of the water. And the sky above seemed to have fallen down on to the earth floor; and I didn’t know if the sky was the earth or the earth was water. I had been turned upside down. I had to hold the rock with my fingernails to stop me falling into the sky of the earth or the water of the sky. But I couldn’t hold on.

His whole life was now summed up in two words: absolute uncertainty within an impenetrable fog.

I try to create a place of disorientation.

On Tuesday, when it hails and snows, The feeling on me grows and grows That hardly anybody knows If those are these or these are those.

I don't know what I feel or what I want to feel. I don't know what to think or what I am.