“Consensual reality is both fragile and elastic, and it heals like the skin of a bubble.”
“With everything so perfect, reality seemed somehow fragile, as if the slightest interruption could imperil her pretty future... all of it felt as tenuous as a soap bubble, shivering and empty.”
“Hope was a fragile flicker that he wanted to cup with both hands to protect against the harsh winds of reality.”
“Happiness is such a fragile thing, isn't it? So easily burst, like a bubble blown by a child, and always on the verge of being carried away.”
“Reality is a fragile thing.”
“The reality cuts across our minds like a wound whose edges crave to heal, but cannot. Thus, one of the great sins, perhaps the great sin, is to say: It will heal; it has healed; there is no wound. There is nothing more important than this wound.”