I think there's nothing wrong with being fixated on superheroes when you are 7 years old, but I think there's a disease in not growing up.
I have never looked for dream in reality or reality in dream. I have allowed my imagination free play, and I have not been led astray by it.
Nothing really ever happens like you imagine it will.
Perhaps all romance is like that; not a contract between equal parties but an explosion of dreams and desires that can find no outlet in everyday life. Only a drama will do and while the fireworks last the sky is a different colour.
The imagination loses vitality as it ceases to adhere to what is real. When it adheres to the unreal and intensifies what is unreal, while its first effect may be extraordinary, that effect is the maximum effect that it will ever have.
Fantasy is often closer to reality than what most people accept as reality.
Exquisite nature, daydreams, and music say one thing, real life another.
[I]nstead of the usual "Why can't we make movies more like real life?" I think a more pertinent question is "Why can't real life be more like the movies?"
The movie is more real in so many ways than the life I am leading. No, that’s not true. I just desperately wish this was only a movie.
Living and dreaming are two different things - but you can't do one without the other.
Sometimes my brain writes a check that reality can't cash.
Just because it's a dream doesn't mean it's a lie.
Reality is a lovely place, but I wouldn't want to live there.
People want to see a magical fairytale story, but the reality is that I spent a lot of time making music alone in my bedroom.
When a band means a lot to you, you build the fantasy more than the reality. Always.
Even the loveliest dream bears like a blemish its difference from reality, the awareness that what it grants is mere illusion.
And the more she could imagine this island, the less she liked the real world. The more she could imagine the people, the less she liked any real people.
The man who is rich in fancy thinks that his wagon is already built; poor fool, he does not know that there are a hundred timbers to a wagon.
The more a man dreams, the less he believes.
You have to use fantasy to show different sides to reality. That's how it can bend.
It is that bizarre thing. If I had kids, I, of course, would tell them there's Santa, but it's also just an odd feeling to be blatantly lying to kids.
Loving the ideal more than the reality is the cause of all the misery the human species creates for itself.
We are tired who follow after fantasy and truth that flies: You with only look and laughter stain our hearts with richest dyes.
Though dreams can be deceiving; like faces are to hearts, they serve for sweet relieving, when fantasy and reality lie too far apart.
My most important problem was destroying the lines of demarcation that separate what seems real from what seems fantastic.
