This Isn't The Real Me Quotes & Sayings

Harry Potter isn't real? Oh no! Wait, wait, what do you mean by real? Is this video blog real? Am I real if you can see me and hear me, but only through the internet? Are you real if I can read your comment but I don't know who you are or what your name is or where you're from or what you look like or how old you are? I know all of those things about Harry Potter. Maybe Harry Potter's real and you're not. — John Green

I'm not hopeless, that's the problem. I'm too hopeful, if anything ... I'm so thick-headed it's taken me this long to give up on men, but I can't give up completely, you know? So I ... I channel all my hope into an idea, to someone who can't reject me because he isn't real! — Shannon Hale

I've even had people tell me that I must not be a Christian because I think climate change is real. But you know, there's nothing in the Bible that says that. The sad truth is that our thought leaders - many of them in the conservative media and politics - are the ones telling us this isn't real, and we are believing them. — Katharine Hayhoe

Hey, what is it with you? Why are you so spaced out? You still haven't answered me."
I probably still haven't completely adapted to the world," I said after giving it some thought. "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."
Midori rested an elbow on the bar and looked at me. "There was something like that in a Jim Morrison song, I'm pretty sure."
People are strange when you're a stranger. — Haruki Murakami

This really drove home to me that Hugh Everett was no exception: studying the foundations of physics isn't a recipe for glamour and fame. It's more like art: the best reason to do it is because you love it. Only a small minority of my physics colleagues choose to work on the really big questions, and when I meet them, I feel a real kinship. I imagine that a group of friends who've passed up on lucrative career options to become poets might fell a similar bond, knowing that they're all in it not for the money but for the intellectual adventure. — Max Tegmark

The real problem you get with humour is that you only have so many kinds of jokes within you, and you mine that vein a lot. This isn't just common to me; it's anybody who's funny. — Bill Bryson

It doesn't matter how many drugs I take, I'm not fulfilled. This isn't satisfying. There's a spiritual hunger going on. Everybody feels it. If you don't feel it now, you will. Trust me. You will ...
Drinking beer is easy. Trashing your hotel room is easy. But being a Christian, that's a tough call. That's the real rebellion. — Alice Cooper

Look- here's a table covered with red cloth. On it is a cage the size of a small fish aquarium. In the cage is a white rabbit with a pink nose and pink-rimmed eyes. [ ... ] On its back, clearly marked in blue ink, is the numeral 8. [ ... ] The most interesting thing here isn't even the carrot-munching rabbit in the cage, but the number on its back. Not a six, not a four, not nineteen-point-five. It's an eight. This is what we're looking at, and we all see it. I didn't tell you. You didn't ask me. I never opened my mouth and you never opened yours. We're not even in the same year together, let alone the same room ... except we are together. We are close. We're having a meeting of the minds. [ ... ] We've engaged in an act of telepathy. No mythy-mountain shit; real telepathy. — Stephen King

This isn't your fight, Patch," I said quietly.
His eyes burned with an intensity I'd never seen before. "You're mine, Angel, and don't you forget it. Your fights are my fights. What if something had happened today? It was bad enough when I thought your ghost was haunting me; I don't think I could handle the real thing. — Becca Fitzpatrick

One of the others bore away Nessaren's clothes, and the third opened a door for me and bowed; and I walked through, feeling like a real fool. I was afraid I'd forget about the train dragging behind me, trip, and go rolling down the stairs, so I grabbed fistfuls of skirt at either side and walked carefully after her.
"Ho, Mel! You look like you're treading on knives." Branaric's voice came from behind me.
"Well, I don't want to ruin this gown. Isn't mine," I said.
He just grinned, and we were led down another level to an elegant room with a fire at one end and windows looking out over the valley. — Sherwood Smith

he's not real I can take his space. As I get into bed beside him, the strongman vanishes. I pick up my diary and record him: was there, isn't any more. This happened in early July, 2010. I had surgery on the first of the month, and was scheduled to stay in hospital for about nine days. The last thing the surgeon said to me, on the afternoon of the procedure: 'For you, this is a big thing, but remember, to us it is routine.' The operation was to relieve a stricture in my bowel, before it closed completely and created an emergency. But though we had used the latest scans in preparation, neither — Hilary Mantel

I read a story about some old opera singer once, and when a guy asked her to marry him, she took him backstage after she had sung a real triumph, with all the people calling for her, asked, 'Do you think you could give me that?' That story hit me right, man. I know no guy ever made me feel as good as an audience. I'm really far into this now, really committed. Like, I don't think I'd go off the road for long now, for life with a guy no matter how good. Yeah, it's the truth. Scary thing to say though, isn't it? — Janis Joplin

I am just a guy, doing my best to be the best person I can be.
And, every once in a while, I fuck up the moment I'm in.
Please. Get over it. Get over yourselves. Get over this weird need to be morally superior to me and to the other people in this world.
And let me be imperfect. I assure you, my imperfections drive me to improve.
Let me love myself. I assure you, loving myself despite my faults will only make me a better person.
Let me be my own judge. I assure you, I'll be more fair and just than you ever will.
Let me be the owner of my own intentions. I assure you, there isn't another soul on earth who knows what my real intentions are but me.
Love and acceptance despite ongoing and glaring imperfection is all I've ever tried to attain with this blog. For me. For you. For everyone. And I'll never stop. — Dan Pearce

You know, this isn't how I imagined meeting Sophie's first real boyfriend."

"Mom."

Archer gave me a little squeeze. "You mean I'm the first guy your parents have rescued from an enchanted island via use of a magic mirror? I feel so special."

~ Grace, Sophie, Archer — Rachel Hawkins

I don't remember why it all went so wrong. I mean, I do remember. I remember what i did. I just don't remember why anymore. This - you and me - this feels so right. It just seems stupid - so stupid - that we had it before, and we let it go. We wasted so much time. I'm sorry.' She was close to tears.
'Hey. Don't. There's no point in that. It's the past, and that's where it belongs. This is us now. We're here.'
But where's here? We're hiding out. We're playing house. This isn't real life.'
'It feels real to me.'
'But it isn't. — Elizabeth Noble

Really, the definition of what makes us "human" confuses me. Showing "humanity" is like this synonym for "treating others kindly" or "like you want to be treated" or whatever, when that isn't really human at all. Whoever came up with that definition is a real scammer, and a real genius. More than anything else, humans have been terrible to each other throughout history, and this is still the way it works today and will continue to work. It's how we're wired. I have "human understanding"; that's it. — A.D. Aliwat

I live inside my own skin. Anything that happens outside it doesn't change who I am. This isn't something I'm proud of; as far as I'm concerned, it's a bare minimum baseline requirement for calling yourself an adult human being, somewhere around the level of knowing how to do your own washing or change a toilet roll. All those idiots on the websites, begging for other people to pull their sagging puppet-strings, turn them real: they make me want to spit. — Tana French

The big man shrugged, "I don't know. You're pretty good with the cards. Tell me what the odds are."
[She] shifted her gaze to Michael, then back at Hollis. "This isn't a question of odds. Of all the men in the world, that woman chose you. If she's still out there, she's waiting for you. Staying alive any way she can until you find her. That's all that matters."
Everybody waited for what Hollis would next say. "You're a real ball-buster, you know that? ... Let me pack a few things. — Justin Cronin

You're speaking coldly towards me but why is it that my heart isn't getting cold at all? Is it because your heart is saying something else? Is it because there's something else you're hoping that I'll hear? So tell me the real reason. Why are you doing this? I'll become your strength. I have the confidence to do that. — Taeyang

Either I'm alive or I'm dying, she said to Daniel. Please don't feel you can't tell me. Which is it?
Which does it feel like? said Daniel. He patted her hand. You're not dead yet. You're a lot more alive than many people.
This isn't good enough for Rennie. She wants something definite, the real truth, one way or the other. Then she will know what she should do next. It's this suspension, hanging in a void, this half-life she can't bear. She can't bear not knowing. She doesn't want to know. — Margaret Atwood

Insta-love isn't something that happens in real life. It
happens in the books I read, but not in the world I live. Though here
stands this beautiful, sexy, funny, sweet and amazing guy who has
done everything short of professing love at first sight to me and I'm
still standing here like a pair of lungs suffocating, needing him in
order to breathe. — Kathryn Perez

There have been those who have actually said they envy me, though mostly strangers, and I doubt you'd be that short-sighted or self-absorbed. This is way more freedom than anyone should ever desire, and carries way more baggage than "freedom" can ever sustain. This is more like "desperate flight," and another name I have for myself is "The Ghost Rider." I'm a ghost, I carry a few ghosts with me, and I'm riding through a world that isn't quite real. But I'm okay as long as I keep moving . . . — Neil Peart

This isn't a game," he repeats. "It's real. What you do here determines your survival." He pauses. "And the survival of every other person on this planet."
I laugh.
He doesn't.
And that tells me he's either serious or seriously crazy. Please let him be crazy. — Eve Silver

For what it's worth, I'll share my intentions. You and me, we aren't practice for the real thing. It isn't that too much is at stake with family and friends, it's because I love you. You're funny, beautiful and you care about people. I like the way you look at me, especially when you think I don't notice it. I like that we have history and our kids will have a big family and share that history because there was never a time when their Mom and Dad weren't together. If you were a terrible lay, I might have second thoughts but you and I are dynamite together. I intend to marry you and spend the rest of my life with you. If that freaks you out, tough, because now we've started this, there's no goin' back. — Kristen Ashley

I'm often asked, "Isn't nursing depressing?" I have experienced real depression in my life, but not because of my profession. Nursing is the opposite of despair; it offers the opportunity to do something about suffering. But you have to be strong to be a nurse. You need strong muscles and stamina for the long shifts and heavy lifting, intelligence and discipline to acquire knowledge and exercise critical thinking. As for emotional fortitude- well, I'm still working on that. Most of all, you need moral courage because nursing is about the pursuit of justice. It requires you stand up to bullies, to do things that are right but difficult, and to speak your mind even when you are afraid. I wasn't strong like this when I started out. Nursing made me strong. — Tilda Shalof

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. — Haruki Murakami

What I really fear is time. That's the devil: whipping us on when we'd rather loll, so the present sprints by, impossible to grasp, and all is suddenly past, a past that won't hold still, that slides into these inauthentic tales. My past- it doesn't feel real in the slightest. The person who inhabited it is not me. It's as if the present me is constantly dissolving. There's that line from Heraclitus: 'No man steps in the same river twice, for it is not the same river and he is not the same man.' That's quite right. We enjoy this illusion of continuity, and we call it memory. Which explains, perhaps, why our worst fear isn't the end of life but the end of memories. — Tom Rachman

Wait," I say. "I think you're mistaken. Saying there is no dream is the same as saying everything is a dream. Isn't it? Everyone's a dreamer? Extraordinary things happen all the time even when we're awake. What I meant to suggest to you, if indeed that was me in your dream doing the suggesting, is that there is only one world. This one. The dream is real. The ordinary is the wonderful. The wonderful is the ordinary. — Samantha Hunt

Empowered Women 101: If he can't tell other women that he is happily married and acts in a way that suggests he isn't fully committed then he isn't happy. He is keeping his foot in the door for a better opportunity should it not work out with you. Real women don't need to investigate. They invest in their self confidence and worth by not allowing their man to disrespect them. They are not afraid to ask themselves the tough questions: Why am I letting this man humiliate me and value me less than others? Why have I allowed myself to become a doormat? — Shannon L. Alder

Walker covers the mouthpiece of the phone and holds it out for me. "John, uh, I have the president on the line for you."
I stare at her. "What? Seriously?"
Walker nods. "He's apparently ... um, changed his opinion on fully supporting the Loric. He wants you in Washington right away to discuss strategy."
[ ... ]
I'm about to talk to the president. I shake my head, eyeing Walker. "This isn't some kind of trick, is it?"
"No," Walker says, shaking the phone at me. "He's for real. It sounds nuts but, apparently, his older daughter just experienced some kind of ... vision? Where you gave a speech?"
Sam can't hold back the laughter. "Get out! — Pittacus Lore

It occurred to me, not exactly for the first time, that psychogeography didn't have much to do with the actual experience of walking. It was a nice idea, a clever idea, an art project, a conceit, but it had very little to do with any real walking, with any real experience of walking. And it confirmed for me what I'd really known all along, that walking isn't much good as a theoretical experience. You can dress it up any way you like, but walking remains resolutely simple, basic, analog. That's why I love it and love doing it. And in that respect
stay with me on this
it's not entirely unlike a martini. Sure you can add things to martinis, like chocolate or an olive stuffed with blue cheese or, God forbid, cotton candy, and similarly you can add things to your walks
constraints, shapes, notions of the mapping of utopian spaces
but you don't need to. And really, why would you? Why spoil a good drink? Why spoil a good walk? — Geoff Nicholson

I think we've met our quota for tearful reunions," she chuckled against the top of my head.
"When this is done, I promise I'm never going to leave the house ever again. We'll just stay in and order pizza and watch bad television."
Mom pulled away and looked over my shoulder. "Oh, I think you might want to get out every now and then," she said.
I felt the warm weight of Archer's hand on my waist. "Hey, I like pizza and bad TV."
I turned to him, surprised. "Your chest-"
"Cal," he said by way of explanation. "I owe that guy, like, a mountain of burgers. It's getting embarrassing."
Mom flashed me a little smile before saying, "You know, this isn't how I imagined meeting Sophie's first real boyfriend."
"Mom."
Archer gave me a little squeeze. "You mean I'm the first guy your parents have rescued from an enchanted island via use of a magic mirror? I feel so special. — Rachel Hawkins

People sometimes say that you must believe in feelings deep inside, otherwise you'd never be confident of things like 'My wife loves me'. But this is a bad argument. There can be plenty of evidence that somebody loves you. All through the day when you are with somebody who loves you, you see and hear lots of little tidbits of evidence, and they all add up. It isn't purely inside feeling, like the feeling that priests call revelation. There are outside things to back up the inside feeling: looks in the eye, tender notes in the voice, little favors and kindnesses; this is all real evidence. — Richard Dawkins

Are you telling me my entire life has been a dream?"
"Not your life, Greg, your past."
"Is there a distincition?"
"Of course there is. In a very real sense, everyone's past is a dream; the past isn't a real thing you can reach back and touch; it's just something in your head. Your life, which is what's going on here and now at this table, is as real as anyone's ... — Daniel Quinn

I ask, "You think you'd ever forget it entirely? Your world?" "I don't know. I could see it getting to the point where it didn't feel real anymore. Because it isn't. The only thing that's real in this moment is this city. This room. This bed. You and me." - — Blake Crouch

He shook his head. No games, Serena. That isn't what this is about. If you want games of cat and mouse, disobedient slave to punishing master, you're better off with someone else. As much as this is a fantasy and not your reality, in the time you're with me, it will be real. In all ways. — Maya Banks

When I went on anyway, my body began to grow cold, and I thought I
was dead. Face pale, my dead self sat down on a bench and began to turn
toward my real self, who was watching this hallucination on the screen of the
night. My dead self came nearer, just as if it might want to shake hands with my
real self. That's when I panicked and tried to run. But my dead self pursued me
and finally caught me, entered me and controlled me. I'd felt then just the way I
felt now. I felt as if a hole had opened in my head from which consciousness
and memory leaked out and in their place the rash crowded in, and a cold like
spoiled roast chicken. But that time before, shaking and clinging to the damp
bench, I'd told myself, Hey, take a good look, isn't the world still under your
feet? I'm on this ground, and on this same ground are trees and grass and ants
carrying sand to their nests, little girls chasing rolling balls, and puppies running. — Ryu Murakami

I'd feel a lot better about this if that spell had worked," Kiernan hissed.
"Don't tell me that I'm going to have to drag you along," I whispered back. "This is a real adventure, Kiernan. Just think, if we manage to get out of all this without being killed or imprisoned, you'll have such stories to tell the ladies at court."
"Are you sure that this isn't blasphemy? We're going to desecrate the grave of the Nameless God's chosen ones."
"We aren't going to desecrate it," I insisted. "We're just going to look around it. And besides, since when have you worried about blasphemy?"
He snorted, but softly. "Let's go, then. — Eilis O'Neal

Kiss me," I whispered. Make me forget, for a night, that this isn't real. Make me believe that this could be my life. That I'm not betraying everything I know to be here, to feel like this.

Ember bent down. Her lips touched mine, and my doubts vanished. The soldier disappeared. Everything disappeared, except her. I felt nothing but her hands on my skin, her lips, her bodey pressed agaqinst me. I kissed her until I was consumed with her, searing this moment into my consciousness, driving away the soldier and St. George and everything about the war. I would get back to it tomorrow. Tonight, I wanted to be normal.

Tonight, Garret the soldier didn't exist. — Julie Kagawa

In The Silver Chair, the Marsh-wiggle Puddleglum is all wisdom in rebutting the witch as she denies the existence of the world in which he believes. But as children's fiction isn't quite academically respectable, I'll pretend that I learned this from Blaise Pascal. [ ... ] If the world really is accidental and devoid of meaning, and you and I have no more value in the cosmos than you average bread mold, and Beauty and Goodness are artificial constructs imagined within an explosion, constructs that are controlled by chemical reactions within the accident and have no necessary correspondence to reality, then my made-up children's world licks your real world silly. Depart from me. Go drown in your seething accident. Puddleglum and I are staying here. — N.D. Wilson

If this were a fairy tale, this would be the part where the fishboy appears and Diana shoots him through the heart. Because he is a tragic hero, he's our fucking Gatsby, and he lived for his fish and he has to die for his fish. He would never let my fake authority, condoning his abandonment, making up rules about what's okay just to save his life, convince him to give up his family. He would never leave.
He would know that without him, none of us will be as good. Me, without a friend; and the fish, without a brother; and the island, without a story; and Diana, without her something real, we will all be a little bit less than we were before we knew him.
So he wouldn't leave. Not until I could come with him. And I have never been less able to leave than I am now.
But this isn't a fairy tale, and he doesn't appear. We stand here for a long time.
He really left.
Because it was all that we could do. — Hannah Moskowitz

He felt a psychosomatic rush of emptiness before he spoke. "Since we are getting to the real point, I am not stupid John. And it would be foolish to think me ignorant. Isn't this about the Science Nation interview? Isn't this because I mistakenly used the word "soul?" Isn't this about you and the others thinking somewhere along the lines, I had gained an imaginary soul? We all know when you gain a soul, you lose a mind. Don't we john?"
John hesitated briefly staring at Roma. "I believe so yes. Souls are luxuries for speculative minds. Real scientists can't afford such luxuries. They have the world to save."
Roma narrowed his eyes. "Or destroy. — Dew Platt

This year in school she read Romeo and Juliet, and she told me pragmatically that Romeo was a wimp. He should have just taken Juliet and run away with her, swallowed his pride and worked at some medieval McDonald's. What about the poetry, I asked her. What about the tragedy? And Rebecca told me that that's all very well and good but it isn't the way things happen in real life. — Jodi Picoult

I don't believe in true love and I certainly don't believe in love at first sight. Insta-love isn't something that happens in real life. It happens in the books I read, but not in the world I live. Though here stands this beautiful, sexy, funny, sweet and amazing guy who has done everything short of professing love at first sight to me and I'm still standing here like a pair of lungs suffocating, needing him in order to breathe. I'm not running, I'm here, submerged in all of my vulnerability, taking the biggest chance I ever have with my heart and soul. I hope I'm choosing wisely. I stared at the ground and felt his eyes on the top of my head. — Kathryn Perez

Now this girl was about twenty-one years old. A sweet little coed. Spends a night with a married man. Goes home the next day and tells her mama and daddy. Don't ask me why. Maybe just to rub their faces in it. They decide she needs a lesson. Whole family drives out into the desert, right out to that spot we just passed. All three of them plus the girl's pet dog. Papa tells the girl to dig a shallow grave. Mama gets down on her hands and knees and holds the dog by the collar. When the girl is all through digging, papa gives her a .22 caliber revolver and tells her to shoot the dog. A real touching family scene. Make a good calendar for some religious group to give away. The girl puts the weapon to her temple and kills herself. Now isn't that a heartwarming story? Restores my faith in just about everything. — Don DeLillo

I got it right Justine. Feel into it. Your sense of being a misfit blinds you to what your heart really wants. When you get around solid upstanding men you're like a bird with tinfoil. It makes you incoherent on a romantic level."
"My affection is incoherent unless it's for you That's the line you're giving me here "
"This is real." He points out the door. "That isn't. — Carolyn Crane

When I won the Oscar, there was something telling me 'this isn't the truth'. I had to get back to real work. — Juliette Binoche

Wanna know what a bullet feels like, Warren? A real one? It's not like in the comics ... I think you need to. Feel it ... It's not going to make a neat little hole. First - it'll obliterate your internal organs. Your lung will collapse, feels like drowning ... When it finally hits your spine, it'll blow your central nervous system- ... I'm talking. The pain will be unbearable, but you won't be able to move ... A bullet usually travels faster than this, of course. But the dying? It seems like it takes forever. Something, isn't it? One tiny piece of metal destroys everything. It ripped her insides out ... It took her light away. From me. From the world ... And now the one person who should be here is gone - and a waste like you gets to live. A tiny piece of metal. Can you feel it now? — Joss Whedon

No," I replied testily. "I'm pretty sure 'digital' is Latin for 'fingeral,' so finger cancer equals digital cancer. This is all basic anatomy, Dr. Roland." The Dr. Roland told me that he thought I was overreacting, and the "fingeral" wasn't even a real word. Then I told him that I though he was underreacting, probably because he's embarrassed that he doesn't know how Latin works. Then he claimed that "underrecating" isn't a word either. The man has a terrible bedside manner. — Jenny Lawson

The basic rule for thinking about faith is this: What matters about faith is not us, but the object of faith. Faith isn't primarily a power or capacity in me; it isn't first and foremost an attitude which I adopt; indeed, it's not first of all something which I do. Faith is objective - that is, faith is wholly turned outward to the object of faith. In a real sense, it's not faith itself but that toward which faith is turned that is critically important in getting our thinking straight. What matters about faith is therefore not us but God, the object of faith. But — John Webster