Ready Player One (Ready Player One, #1)

by Ernest Cline

I grew up a little, and I gradually began to figure out that pretty much everyone had been lying to me about pretty much everything since the moment I emerged from my mother’s womb. This was an alarming revelation. It gave me trust issues later in life.

I’d come to see my rig for what it was: an elaborate contraption for deceiving my senses, to allow me to live in a world that didn’t exist. Each component of my rig was a bar in the cell where I had willingly imprisoned myself.

I dropped mix tapes and notes on her palace from the air, like lovesick bombs.

as terrifying and painful as reality can be, it’s also the only place where you can find true happiness.