Reality is an illusion.
Those who seek to understand it corrode their understanding of it. In naïveté,
objects are solid, ideas are true or false, sensations are real, and
communication conveys information. To the adept, these things are as fading
There is no object that is not also emptiness.
There is no arbiter of truth.
Sensations are the lies of Maya; they are the shifting of electrical patterns in
the brain; they are signifiers without referent.
Communication is violence.
Reality is false.
It does not matter how many layers one peels back. It does not matter what
revelations one has. This is because there is no truth.
We are things that we have dreamed, and there is no sense in it, and when the
sleeper wakes we shall be washed away.