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Hallucination Quotes

Browse 50 quotes about Hallucination.

Hallucination Quotes

“How do you control your mind? How do you find a middle between truth and delusion? It may interest you that if you go too far on truth, you may get disappointed in God, in your life, in any beliefs, and even in your mother that gave birth to you. But what if you go too far on delusion?" He stopped and made a thoughtful face. Precop continued, "If you go too far on delusion, you will go crazy and find the darkest hell inside of your inner mind, provided by your own mind. I've been there, trust me. It is so dark that till now I am not sure if you're real or I am just talking to myself.”

MindPhilosophyLife QuotesPhilosophy Of LifeDelusionSpiritual GrowthMind Body SpiritHallucinationInner Mind
Book:Blue House: Ten Years on The Way Home
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“From a medical standpoint, the third and the most probable explanation is that Jesus was indeed dead, and what his disciples experienced were mere hallucinations evoked by the grief over the loss of their beloved teacher. It is clinically known as “Post-Bereavement Hallucinations Experiences” or PBHE.”

MindWisdomRealityTruthJesusBeliefChristChurchConsciousnessChristianityWords Of WisdomJesus ChristBrainy QuotesMythMythologyGrievingWise SayingsResurrectionBereavementPerception Of RealityMedical ProfessionScience Of MindMedical ResearchHallucinationReligious BeliefsJesus MythResurrection Of JesusResurrection Of Christ
Book:Neurons of Jesus: Mind of A Teacher, Spouse & Thinker
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“Let's Look at Subjective Religious Experiences This Way: What if ten thousand people went up to a mountain top, saw something, and then they all disagreed with what they saw, even people who largely agreed with each other? Even with this best possible analogy to subjective religious experiences we would still have a reason to think the lack of oxygen caused them all to hallucinate.”

ReasonAtheismReligious ExperienceHallucinationOccam S RazorSubjective ExperienceAnecdotal EvidenceSubjective Religious Experience
Author:John W. Loftus
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“On a nightstand in a teenager’s room, a glass vase filled with violets leans precariously against a wall. The only thing saving the vase from a thousand-piece death on the hardwood floor is the groove in the nightstand’s surface that catches the bottom of vase, and of course the wall itself. The violets, nearly a week old, droop in the light of a waning gibbous moon. Wrinkled petals are already piling up on the floor between the nightstand and the wall, and a girl only six days sixteen stares at the dying bouquet from her bed.”

FictionHigh SchoolAbuseYoung AdultInsanityShort StoryFlowersAdolescenceTeenWerewolvesHallucinationViolets
Book:Emily Smiles for April
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“Osiris, to go directly to the important part of this, was not a "dying god," not "life caught in the spell of death," or "a dead god," as modern interpreters have said. He was the hallucinated voice of a dead king whose admonitions could still carry weight. And since he could still be heard, there is no paradox in the fact that the body from which the voice once came should be mummified, with all the equipment of the tomb providing life's necessities: food, drink, slaves, women, the lot. There was no mysterious power that emanated from him; simply his remembered voice which appeared in hallucination to those who had known him and which could admonish or suggest even as it has before he stopped moving and breathing. And that various natural phenomena such as the whispering of waves could act as the cue for such hallucinations accounts for the belief that Osiris, or the king whose body has ceased to move and is in his mummy cloths, continues to control the flooding of the Nile. Further, the relationship between Horus and Osiris, 'embodied' in each new king and his dead father forever, can only be understood as the assimilation of an hallucinated advising voice into the king's own voice, which then would be repeated with the next generation.”

Hallucination1976HorusEgyptian MythologyOsirisMummificationDead GodMemphite Theology
Book:The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind
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“Sometimes, when one is moving silently through such an utterly desolate landscape, an overwhelming hallucination can make one feel that oneself, as an individual human being, is slowly being unraveled. The surrounding space is so vast that it becomes increasingly difficult to keep a balanced grip on one's own being. The mind swells out to fill the entire landscape, becoming so diffuse in the process that one loses the ability to keep it fastened to the physical self. The sun would rise from the eastern horizon, and cut it's way across the empty sky, and sink below the western horizon. This was the only perceptible change in our surroundings. And in the movement of the sun, I felt something I hardly know how to name: some huge, cosmic love.”

LandscapeHorizonCosmicDesolationHallucination
Book:The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle
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“Some time later there was a knock at his door. He was surprised to find it was now evening and the room was quite dark. The knock sounded again. The landlord was at the door. The landlord began to talk, but Strange could not understand him. This was because the man had a pineapple in his mouth. How he had managed to cram the whole thing in there, Strange could not imagine. Green, spiky leaves emerged slowly out of his mouth and then were sucked back in again as he spoke. Strange wondered if perhaps he ought to go and fetch a knife or a hook and try and fish the pineapple out, in case the landlord should choke. But at the same time he did not care much about it. 'After all,' he thought with some irritation, 'it is his own fault. He put it there.”

HumorHallucinationPineapple
Book:Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell
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“Night was close. Black trees towered over the dimly lit horizon like cloaked guardians. The winds rocked their crown and their heads tilted, like a nod, begging him over. He wanted to join them. Desperately. He longed for a friend as precious and pure. With the next gust of wind, their bodies seemed to grow, arching over the slumbering town, watching like a curious visitor. There was nobody outside, but some homes were still lit. A tiny speck of brightness that broke the trees’ black figures with an orange hue forming near the roots. The winds jerked and pulled, and for a moment, it looked like their roots were a prison. And that even comfort, nourishment, life itself, was worth escaping.”

NightNatureDreamsDepressionStormTreesHallucination
Author:Mieke Leenders
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“If you were transported 500 years back in time and told them about mobile phones, they would call you mad and kill you. Even if you are an engineer, you wouldn’t be able to prove to them that mobile phones are real. They only understand clay and fire. Today when people say they can see things that you can’t see, you call them mentally ill. Don’t disregard experiences of others no matter how different they are from yours. Space-Time is infinite. Even things you can’t imagine exist inside it.”

TruthSpiritualityBeliefMysteryMysticismUnknownTantraHallucination
Author:Shunya
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“In 1934, Bill W., cofounder of AA [Alcoholics Anonymous], was treated for his alcoholism with a hallucinogenic belladonna alkaloid. The resulting mystical experience led him to become sober and inspired him to write the book and cofound the organization that have changed the lives of so many millions around the world. In the 1950's Bill W underwent LSD therapy, and found his experience so inspiring that the sought to have the drug made part of the AA program.”

LsdHallucinationHallucinogenicPsychadelics
Book:A Really Good Day: How Microdosing Made a Mega Difference in My Mood, My Marriage, and My Life
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“The lion on the left had advanced all the way to the fence now; its muzzle was touching the boards. It seemed to be grinning at him. Jack backed up another two steps. His head was thudding crazily and he could feel the dry rasp of his breath in his throat. Now the buffalo had moved, circling to the right, behind and around the rabbit. The head was lowered, the green hedge horns pointing at him. The thing was, you couldn't watch all of them. Not all at once.”

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Book:THE SHINING
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“Picture a man in his living room. He is standing at a closed window opposite the fireplace and looking out at the dark night. As the fire starts to burn, the images of the objects in the room behind him can be seen reflected dimly in the window. As more logs burn and the fire in the fireplace illuminates the room, the man now sees a vivid reflection of himself and the contents of the room, which appears to be outside the window. As the analogy is applied to intoxication, the window is the window of our senses to the world, the fire is the electrical excitation in the brain, and the logs are the drugs that dampen (sedatives) or stoke up (stimulants and hallucinogens) the fire. When the fire is stifled, the man will see very little. But when the fire burns brightly, the glass will reflect the furniture in the rooms of his mind—his images, memories, dreams, and fantasies. The brighter the fire—the more [drugs] in the brain—the more vivid the reflections become until some users step through the window, like Alice going through the looking glass, and behave as if the images were real.”

DrugsIntoxicationPsychedelicsHallucination
Book:Intoxication: The Universal Drive for Mind-Altering Substances
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“A good and learned psychotherapist considers and digs into all factors in the context of physical, spiritual, political, and investigation in all dimensions before the decision. Mental disorders, illusions, delusions, and such terms may not always be physical issues; they can be real; they can be the process of spirituality; they can be the result of chemicals as a patient feels and realizes rather than mental or physical. Most psychotherapists are just like robots and professional bookworms and have no other subjects’ knowledge. Whether delusion, illusion, hallucination, or mirage that carries a similar context as there is truth and also no truth: If you exemplify mirage, no doubt when a layer of water appears in a desert or on a warm road and causes the light to refract through the heat of the sun is truth, but a layer of water is truthless. Light exists, not a layer of water; it is a lack of knowledge, not a mental issue. Psychotherapists cannot treat a lack of knowledge with drugs. If they remain unable to understand it, of course, they also have a lack of knowledge.”

IllusionDelusionHallucination
Author:Ehsan Sehgal
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“There was a terrible disparity between the speed at which he was moving and the quiet immobility of that line, but he insisted. So as not to go. To stay behind. To overflow, take root in what would stay here. A centipede can, cut into pieces. Each part can walk by itself. Still more, each leg flexes, lying alone on the floor. There was a screaming sound in each ear, and the difference between the two pitches was so narrow that the vibration was like running his fingernail along the edge of a new dime. In front of his eyes clusters of round spots were being born; they were the little spots that result when a photographic cut in a newspaper is enlarged many times. Lighter agglomerations, darker masses, small regions of uninhabited space here and there. Each spot slowly took on a third dimension. He tried to recoil from the expanding globules of matter. Did he cry out? Could he move? The thin distance between the two high screams became narrower, they were almost one; now the difference was the edge of a razor blade, poised against the tips of each finger. The fingers were to be sliced longitudinally.”

FeverHallucinationCentipedesFever Dreams
Book:The Sheltering Sky
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“The Final Enigma (Sonnet 2002) Consciousness contains the cosmos, cosmos contains consciousness, all rooted in specks of jelly, firing in frenzy inside our head. When neurons fire, we see light, lack of oxygen conjures a tunnel. Nearing death, hallucinogens kick in, thus we experience kingdoms mythical. Neurons forge the fabric of reality, within neurons our paradise is born. Neurons concoct our fabled purgatory, thus our strong beliefs rule perception. Neurons are the birthplace of order, within neurons order comes to end. Neurons are the root of mindlessness, as well as the instrument of mend.”

ConsciousnessPerceptionMindfulnessNeurosciencePsychiatryKingdom Of HeavenNeurologyNear Death ExperienceHallucinationParapsychology
Book:Neurosonnets: The Naskar Art of Neuroscience
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“I, for example, quiet plainly and simply insist upon annihilation for myself. “No,” they say, “you must go on living, for without you there would be nothing. If everything on earth were reasonable, nothing would ever happen. Without you there would be no events, and it is necessary that there should be events.” Well, and so on I drudge with unwilling heart so that there be events, and bring about unreason by command. People think toute cette comedie is something serious, all there unquestionable intelligence notwithstanding. There lies there tragedy. Well, and they suffer, of course, but … al the same they live, they live in reality, not in fantasy; for suffering is also life. Without suffering what pleasure would there be in it? Everything would turn into one single, endless church service: much holy soaring, but rather boring. Well, and I? I suffer, but even so I do not live. I am the “x” in an indeterminate equation. I am one of life’s ghosts, who has lost all the ends and the beginnings, and even at last forgotten what to call myself. You are laughing . . . No, you are not laughing, you are angry again. You are eternally angry, you would like there to be nothing but intelligence, but I will tell you again that I would renounce all this empyrean existence, all these honours and ranks just in order to be able to take fleshy form in the person of a seven-pood merchant’s wife and set up candles to God in church. ‘So, you don’t believe in God either?’ Ivan said, smiling with hatred. ‘Well, how can I explain it to you, if you are serious, that is . . . ‘ ‘Does God exist or not?’ Ivan barked, again with ferocious insistence. ‘Ah, so you are serious? My dear little dove, I swear to God I do not know, pour vous dire le grand mot.”

SatanDemonDeliriumHallucinationIvan Karamazov
Book:The Brothers Karamazov
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“Another thirst had come to him—the thirst for women, for licentious pleasure, and all that Parisian life permitted him to enjoy. He felt somewhat stunned, like a man coming out of a ship, and in the visions that haunted his first sleep, he saw the shoulders of the fishwife, the loins of the 'longshorewoman, the calves of the Polish lady, and the head-dress of the female savage flying past him and coming back again continually. Then, two large black eyes, which had not been at the ball, appeared before him; and, light as butterflies, burning as torches, they came and went, ascended to the cornice and descended to his very mouth. Frederick made desperate efforts to recognise those eyes, without succeeding in doing so. But already the dream had taken hold of him. It seemed to him that he was yoked beside Arnoux to the pole of a hackney-coach, and that the Maréchale, astride of him, was disembowelling him with her gold spurs.(©Project Gutenberg)”

Hallucination
Book:Sentimental Education
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“Note for a moment do I take you for a truth that is real,' Ivan exclaimed in what even amounted to fury. 'You are a falsehood, you are my illness, you are a ghost. Only I do not know how to destroy you, and perceive that for a certain time I must suffer you. You are a hallucination I am having. You are the embodiment of myself, but only of one side of me ... of my thoughts and emotions, though only those that are most loathsome and stupid. In that regard you might even be of interest to me, if only I had time to throw away on you ...”

DreamDeliriumHallucinationA Karamazov
Book:The Brothers Karamazov
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“At this point, the sequence of my memories is disrupted. I sank into a chaos of brief, incoherent and bizarre hallucinations, in which the grotesque and the horrible kept close company. Prostrate, as if I were being garrotted by invisible cords, I floundered in anguish and dread, oppressively ridden by the most unbridled nightmares. A whole series of monsters and avatars swarmed in the shadows, coming to life amid draughts of sulphur and phosphorus like an animated fresco painted on the moving wall of sleep. There followed a turbulent race through space. I soared, grasped by the hair by an invisible hand of will: an icy and powerful hand, in which I felt the hardness of precious stones, and which I sensed to be the hand of Ethal. Dizziness was piled upon dizziness in that flight to the abyss, under skies the colour of camphor and salt, skies whose nocturnal brilliance had a terrible limpidity. I was spun around and around, in bewildering confusion, above deserts and rivers. Great expanses of sand stretched into the distance, mottled here and there by monumental shadows. At times we would pass over cities: sleeping cities with obelisks and cupolas shining milk-white in the moonlight, between metallic palm-trees. In the extreme distance, amid bamboos and flowering mangroves, luminous millennial pagodas descended towards the water on stepped terraces.”

VisionNightmareHallucinationOrientalismOrientalist
Book:Monsieur de Phocas
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“He had entered another imaginative world, one connected to the beginning of his life as a writer, to the Napoleonic world that had been a lifelong metaphor for the power of art, for the empire of his own creation He began to dictate notes for a new novel, "fragments of the book he imagines himself to be writing." As if he were now writing a novel of which his own altered consciousness was the dramatic center, he dictated a vision of himself as Napoleon and his own family as the Imperial Bonapartes....William and Alice he grasped with his regent hand, addressing his 'dear and most esteemed brother and sister.' To them, to whom he had granted countries, he now gave the responsibility of supervising the detailed plans he had created for 'the decoration of certain apartments, here of the Louvre and Tuileries, which you will find addressed in detail to artists and workment who take them in hand.' He was himself the 'imperial eagle.' Taking down the dictation, Theodora [his secretary] felt it to be almost more than she could bear. 'It is a heart-breaking thing to do, though, there is the extraordinary fact that his mind does retain the power to frame perfectly characteristic sentences.”

WritingArtDeathLanguageImaginationCreativityNovelistsNovel WritingDeliriumSyntaxHallucinationSentence Structure
Book:Henry James: The Imagination of Genius, A Biography
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“There was some kind of scuffle two hundred yards down the street, again strangely noiseless, and a huddled knot of men opened up to reveal two brawlers being separated and pulled away from their fight. What I saw next gave me a fright: in the farther distance, beyond the listless crowd, the body of a lynched man dangling from a tree. The body was slender, dressed from head to toe in black, reflecting no light. It soon resolved itself, however, into a less ominous thing: dark canvas sheeting on a construction scaffold, twirling in the wind.”

HistoryNew York CityLynchingHallucination
Book:Open City
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“Although she had never tasted wine, it looked extremely refreshing; just what she needed to quench her thirst. And she hear his voice call out to her “come on Terry Jo! We're leaving now!“ Occasionally, a wave splashing into her face brought her into semi-consciousness. She was so numb now from shock, she felt even less fear. The confined world the raft and the water was beginning to become her way of life. The previous world of the Bluebelle, her family, and her home was becoming strangely distant and incomprehensible.”

DissociationHallucinationHearing VoicesShipwrecked
Author:Richard D. Logan
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