Life & Wisdom Quote by Robert Anton Wilson

Wilson’s line is a sly little grenade lobbed at the everyday fantasy that we “know” other people. It sounds like a confession of loneliness, but it’s really a jailbreak: the claim isn’t that humans are inaccessible so much as that certainty is. By insisting he’s only ever met his impressions, Wilson drags perception out from the background and makes it the main character. You don’t encounter a person raw; you encounter a collage assembled from your mood, your memories, your biases, the lighting in the room, the story you’re already telling about them.

The intent is epistemological, but the subtext is social. If your “experience” of someone is a private construction, then most moral outrage, romantic devotion, and tribal hatred starts to look like a fight with a mirror. That doesn’t make relationships fake; it makes them negotiated. Communication becomes less about transmitting truth and more about aligning models. It’s a neat way to puncture the ego’s entitlement to interpretive dominance: you’re not the impartial judge of who someone “really is.” You’re a participant in an ongoing hallucination you share with others, imperfectly.

Context matters: Wilson came out of mid-century psychedelia, skepticism, and systems thinking, championing “reality tunnels” and the idea that beliefs function like perceptual filters. This sentence carries that whole program in miniature. It’s also a writer’s line: a reminder that character, like personhood, is something we infer from surfaces. The wit is in the austerity. He doesn’t moralize; he simply narrows the claim to what can be honestly defended, and leaves your certainties to squirm.