Jonathan Larson Quotes

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

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?

There are moments in life when it is all turned inside out--what is real becomes unreal, what is unreal becomes tangible, and all your levelheaded efforts to keep a tight ontological control are rendered silly and indulgent.

No one wants to be part of a fiction, and even less so if that fiction is real.

I've lived in LA for so long, I don't even know what is real and what isn't any more.

Everything is always a little surreal.

Every day after I wake up, I think, 'Wait... this can't be real; I'm still going to wake up.'

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

I feel like a Space Jam' creature.

I've always wondered if, at some point, everything will snap, and it'll be like 'Alice in Wonderland,' where the delightfully mad people turn into sinister mad people.

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 probably still haven’t completely adapted to the world. I don’t know, I feel like this isn’t the real world. The people, the scene: they just don’t seem real to me.

... when I left the stage door and sought my orientation among real people I was in a wilderness of unpredictables in an unchoreographed world.

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.

The past isn't real because it's history, and the future isn't because it hasn't happened yet. I like it, it hints at virtual reality, which I think is how we sort of feel about life sometimes.

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.

If I ventured in the slipstream between the viaducts of your dreams, where immobile steel rims crack and the ditch in the back roads stop. Could you find me?

The trouble with fiction," said John Rivers, "is that it makes too much sense. Reality never makes sense.

I feel like Alice falling into Wonderland. A line came to him: It would be so nice if something made sense for a change.

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.

Dreams feel real while we're in them. It's only when we wake up that we realize something was actually strange.

I think that, like in my writing, reality is always a soap bubble, Silly Putty thing anyway. In the universe people are in, people put their hands through the walls, and it turns out they're living in another century entirely. I often have the feeling — and it does show up in my books — that this is all just a stage.

"Well, it's no use your talking about waking him," said Tweedledum, "when you're only one of the things in his dream. You know very well you're not real."

Bizarre! That's the only word I can use to describe life sometimes. Just freaking bizarre.