Haniel Long Quotes

…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.

Everything is always a little surreal.

I enter the world called real as one enters a mist.

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

I have very vivid dreams, and often - this happens to me at least a few times a week - I don't know if something happened in real life or in a dream. I'm like, 'Mom, did this neighbor come over, or was it a dream?' And she's like, 'No, what are you talking about?'

The idea of my fashion shows is that you can't understand where you are; it's something surreal.

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.

[William Butler] Yeats has the phrase Hodos Chameliontos, chameleon-like, in that you don't know where the beginning or the middle or the end is, so it's an unrelieved hallucination, because you don't know where you're coming in and you don't know where you're going out. It ends, you're going into the hallucination, or maybe coming out of it, I don't know.

It's not easy in this phosphorescent gloom telling waking dreams apart anyhow.

I was ninety-nine point nine percent sure that I was dreaming.

That was a good time in my life, in spite of having the sensation of floating on a cloud, surrounded by both lies and things left unspoken. Occasionally I thought I glimpsed the truth, but soon found myself once again lost in a forest of ambiguities.

I feel as if I'm always on the verge of waking up.

The world is this incredibly blurry, crazy dream that I'm just sort of stumbling through.

Please don't ask me what the score is. I'm not even sure what the game is.

Where am I? Who am I? How did I come to be here? What is this thing called the world?

Thank you, Sam," he said in a cracked whisper. "How far is there to go?" I don't know," said Sam, "because I don't know where we're going.

It's just as difficult to reach a destination you don't have, as it is to come back from a place you've never been.

When I do not walk in the clouds I walk as though I were lost.

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

He looked at her uncomfortably; blinking, you know, like one not sure whether he was awake or asleep.

Sometimes you wake up from a dream. Sometimes you wake up in a dream. And sometimes, every once in a while, you wake up in someone else's dream.

What is he aching to do? What are we all aching to do? What do we want?” She didn’t know. She yawned. She was sleepy. It was too much. Nobody could tell. Nobody would ever tell. It was all over. She was eighteen and most lovely, and lost.

I don't know what it is I'm doing. But it's not that. Despite all evidence to the contrary.

And what exactly is a dream and what exactly is a joke?

I try to create a place of disorientation.