Cormac McCarthy Quotes

We both know that, my friend, but a man's perception soon becomes his reality.

When someone starts talking to me about the truth, what I hear is what they're telling me about themselves.

There is no good or bad without us, there is only perception. There is the event itself and the story we tell ourselves about what it means.

I'm trying to get more into other things, where reality is nothing but each individual's way of thinking.

Only I know my life.

All experience is subjective.

Perception is reality. People take what they want to from things.

You create your response to reality, and that response, for all practical purposes, is your reality.

I never believe I'm presenting objective reality; I also don't want to delude people into thinking that my subject is talking directly to them.

The individual point of view is the only point of view from which one is able to look at the world in its truth.

Reality is perspective. All you have to do is Believe.

Beware of solipsism Funny word. Sounds like it means "love of melons" or something. I looked it up. It means believing that "the self is the only reality." Am I solipsist?

It is we who are the measure of what is strange and miraculous: if we sought a universal measure the strange and miraculous would not occur and all things would be equal.

The reality is in this head. Mine. I'm the projector at the planetarium, all the closed little universe visible in the circle of that stage is coming out of my mouth, eyes, and sometimes other orifices also.

Your whole life is nothing but a dream. You live in a fantasy where everything you know about yourself is only true for you. Your truth is not the truth for anyone else.

Reality is inside the skull.

I'm coming 'round to the view that there's only a personal view of the world.

All our interior world is reality, and that, perhaps, more so than our apparent world.

The world is as you are.

The world only exists in your eyes. You can make it as big or as small as you want

No two people have the same reality

Elena had always felt like the center of her own world - who doesn't? The world arranged itself around her like petals around the stem of a flower. This way the meadows, that way the woodland. Over here, the baryn's estate, out there, the hills that hug the known world close and imply a world at beyond. She could never come up with the edge of a world, because it always kept going on beyond. She moved the center of the world as she walked. The world was balanced on her head.

The claim that everybody sees the world differently is not a claim that there's no reality. It's a different kind of claim.

Memory has its own special kind. It selects, eliminates, alters, exaggerates, minimizes, glorifies, and vilifies also; but in the end it creates its own reality, its heterogeneous but usually coherent version of events; and no sane human being ever trusts someone else's version more than his own.

People think they know the mystery of living in your skin. They don't. There's no one who knows except the person who carts it around her own self.