Surreal Quotes

I compose most of my tweets with care, as if they were aphorisms - they are not usually dashed-off. Sometimes I'm surprised by the high, poetic quality of Twitter - it lends itself to a surreal sort of self-expression.

Joyce Carol Oates

One of the most surreal moments in this election was after the third debate, when I heard a talking head say, Al Gore won on substance, on the issues. But you have to give the victory to Bush because he seems presidential.

Bradley Whitford

I know I have this level of celebrity, of fame, international, national, whatever you want to call it, but it's a pretty surreal thing to think sometimes that you're in the middle of another famous person's life and you think to yourself, 'How the hell did I get famous? What is this some weird club that we're in?'

Kevin Costner

And the whole Oscar thing, that is just surreal: you spend months and months doing promotion, and then come back to reality with this golden thing in your hands. You put it in the office and then you just have to look at it sitting on the shelf. And, after about two weeks, you go: 'What is that doing there?'

Javier Bardem

When I look up at the screen and see myself I always have to laugh. Not because I think I'm doing a horrible job, quite the contrary, I just feel it's so surreal to feel like one person can entertain so many at one time.

Ben Affleck

“Love is the jelly to sunshine’s peanut butter. And if I tell you that I’m in sandwich with you, I’m not just saying it to get in your Ziploc bag.”

― Jarod Kintz, Love quotes for the ages. Specifically ages 18-81

“Surrealism is destructive, but it destroys only what it considers to be shackles limiting our vision.”

― Salvador Dalí

“My wife with the hair of a wood fire

With the thoughts of heat lightning

With the waist of an hourglass

With the waist of an otter in the teeth of a tiger

My wife with the lips of a cockade and of a bunch of stars of the last magnitude

With the teeth of tracks of white mice on the white earth

With the tongue of rubbed amber and glass

My wife with the tongue of a stabbed host

With the tongue of a doll that opens and closes its eyes

With the tongue of an unbelievable stone

My wife with the eyelashes of strokes of a child's writing

With brows of the edge of a swallow's nest

My wife with the brow of slates of a hothouse roof

And of steam on the panes

My wife with shoulders of champagne

And of a fountain with dolphin-heads beneath the ice

My wife with wrists of matches

My wife with fingers of luck and ace of hearts

With fingers of mown hay

My wife with armpits of marten and of beechnut

And of Midsummer Night

Of privet and of an angelfish nest

With arms of seafoam and of riverlocks

And of a mingling of the wheat and the mill

My wife with legs of flares

With the movements of clockwork and despair

My wife with calves of eldertree pith

My wife with feet of initials

With feet of rings of keys and Java sparrows drinking

My wife with a neck of unpearled barley

My wife with a throat of the valley of gold

Of a tryst in the very bed of the torrent

With breasts of night

My wife with breasts of a marine molehill

My wife with breasts of the ruby's crucible

With breasts of the rose's spectre beneath the dew

My wife with the belly of an unfolding of the fan of days

With the belly of a gigantic claw

My wife with the back of a bird fleeing vertically

With a back of quicksilver

With a back of light

With a nape of rolled stone and wet chalk

And of the drop of a glass where one has just been drinking

My wife with hips of a skiff

With hips of a chandelier and of arrow-feathers

And of shafts of white peacock plumes

Of an insensible pendulum

My wife with buttocks of sandstone and asbestos

My wife with buttocks of swans' backs

My wife with buttocks of spring

With the sex of an iris

My wife with the sex of a mining-placer and of a platypus

My wife with a sex of seaweed and ancient sweetmeat

My wife with a sex of mirror

My wife with eyes full of tears

With eyes of purple panoply and of a magnetic needle

My wife with savanna eyes

My wife with eyes of water to he drunk in prison

My wife with eyes of wood always under the axe

My wife with eyes of water-level of level of air earth and fire”

― André Breton, Poems

“Perhaps my life is nothing but an image of this kind; perhaps I am doomed to retrace my steps under the illusion that I am exploring, doomed to try and learn what I simply should recognize, learning a mere fraction of what I have forgotten.”

― André Breton