A library is a better world, built by the brains and hearts of poets and dreamers, as a refuge from the real world
outside; and in it alone is to be found the land of milk and honey which it promises.
We knew only the real world
, and the things we feared were the real things, the concrete dangers, the flesh-and-blood animals that preyed.
You do not know the real world
in which you live, and your thinking has no place in the real world
except in so far as it is phenomena of mental aberration.
It is the way of cub reporters, city newspapers, and flat-floor populations which get their thrills from moving pictures and for which the real world
and all its spaciousness does not exist.
Insensibly he formed the most delightful habit in the world, the habit of reading: he did not know that thus he was providing himself with a refuge from all the distress of life; he did not know either that he was creating for himself an unreal world which would make the real world
of every day a source of bitter disappointment.
It was all very well when we sat before the fire--when we looked into the hollow down by the flare--but we are looking into the real world
It was a place where feelings were liberated from the constraint which the real world
puts upon them; and the process of awakenment was always marked by resignation and a kind of stoical acceptance of facts.
In that world of his, in the ideal world, to which the real world
must finally conform itself, I dwelt among the shows of things, but under a Providence that governed all things to a good end, and where neither wealth nor birth could avail against virtue or right.
The real world
was in his mind, and the stories he wrote were so many pieces of reality out of his mind.
Whereupon the other world would vanish and the real world
come into his eyes, and he would get up and yawn and stretch as though he had been asleep.
Left alone, just when the boy's nature was deepening into the man's, he turned to this ideal kingdom for all he believed the real world
could never give him.
At the shot, of the two shadow-wanderers, the one reeled downward to the dark and the other reeled upward to the light, swaying drunkenly on his scurvy-ravaged legs, shivering with nervousness and cold, rubbing swimming eyes with shaking fingers, and staring at the real world
all about him that had returned to him with such sickening suddenness.