A hallucination is a species of reality, as capable of teaching you as a videotape about Kilimanjaro or anything else that falls through your life.

Reality is, you know, the tip of an iceberg of irrationality that we've managed to drag ourselves up onto for a few panting moments before we slip back into the sea of the unreal.

Nowhere is it writ that anthropoid apes should understand reality.

Reality itself is not static. This is one of the things that the psychedelic is trying to put across, that the reality we're embedded in is itself some kind of an organism and is evolving toward a conclusion.

To me, the psychedelic experience is the experience of trying to make sense of reality.

The world is not made of anti-mu mesons, quarks, and photons, and electromagnetic fields. Reality is made of words.

Cultures are virtual realities made of language.

For me, what all these years of psychedelic taking came to was a new model of how reality works, a new model of what the world is.

The world is mental in some way that we do not yet understand, but that which we're edging toward understanding. And the world is made of language. I can't say that enough. Whenever we get into these discussions about reality, or effects in space and time, we are operating outside this assumption that the world is made of language.