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Quote by Dejan Stojanovic

“We may ask the question: What is reality? What is the real or objective reality? Finally, we may be surprised by the ultimate answer of reality: that the thing or reality is the illusion itself because the Ultimate Source, the Ultimate Reality, at its supreme point, is equal to Nothingness. That would mean that the Ultimate Reality is Nothingness. The Ultimate Source is the Ultimate Potential. Whether the actualization of this potential is reality or illusion is irrelevant. What is important is the existence and realization of the potential.”

Quote by Dejan Stojanovic

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Dejan Stojanovic
Dejan Stojanovic

Dejan Stojanovic, born on March 11, 1959, is a Serbian poet known for his profound emotions and unique style in his poetry, which has won the hearts of readers worldwide. more

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“As she listened, or seemed to listen, the whole place around her became alive with the strange creatures of her little sister’s dream. The long grass rustled at her feet as the White Rabbit hurried by—the frightened Mouse splashed his way through the neighbouring pool—she could hear the rattle of the teacups as the March Hare and his friends shared their never-ending meal, and the shrill voice of the Queen ordering off her unfortunate guests to execution—once more the pig-baby was sneezing on the Duchess’s knee, while plates and dishes crashed around it—once more the shriek of the Gryphon, the squeaking of the Lizard’s slate-pencil, and the choking of the suppressed guinea-pigs, filled the air, mixed up with the distant sobs of the miserable Mock Turtle. So she sat on, with closed eyes, and half believed herself in Wonderland, though she knew she had but to open them again, and all would change to dull reality—the grass would be only rustling in the wind, and the pool rippling to the waving of the reeds—the rattling teacups would change to tinkling sheep-bells, and the Queen’s shrill cries to the voice of the shepherd boy—and the sneeze of the baby, the shriek of the Gryphon, and all the other queer noises, would change (she knew) to the confused clamour of the busy farm-yard—while the lowing of the cattle in the distance would take the place of the Mock Turtle’s heavy sobs.”

“A countdown was started on my local radio show to my 18th birthday — euphemistically the date that I would be legal to sleep with,” she said. “Movie reviewers talked about my budding breasts in reviews. I understood very quickly, even as a 13-year-old, that if I were to express myself sexually I would feel unsafe and that men would feel entitled to discuss and objectify my body to my great discomfort.”