Quotes About Complexity

Cassie could be affectionate and scornful at the same time, and I always felt that if I wasn't careful, the scorn might win out.

People don't very much like things that are beautiful.. they are so far from their nasty little minds.

La musique doit humblement chercher à faire plaisir, l'extrême complication est le contraire de l'art

This is what processes aligned with customer jobs do: they shift complexity and nuisances from the customer to the vendor, leaving positive customer experiences and valuable progress in their place.

You'll learn, honey. Love can be the best thing in life. And it can be the worst. The absolute worst.

She's...just a girl, you know. Like most girls: something and nothing.

Minds weren't pictures at an exhibition, all numbered, and hung in order of influence, one marked Cunning, the next, Impressionable. They were scrawls; they were sprawling splashes of graffiti, unpredictable, unconfinable.

Quitoon knew the world well. It wasn't jut Humankind and its works he knew, but all manner of things without any clear connection between them. He knew about spices, parliaments, salamanders, lullabies, curses, forms of discourse and disease; of riddles, chains, and sanities; ways to make sweetmeats, love and widows; tales to tell children, tales to tell their parents, tales to tell yourself on days when everything you know means nothing.

If life was simpler we wouldn't get lost in it

She was so beautiful, you see. Not in any two-dimensional sense: she wasn't young, she wasn't innocent, she didn't have that pristine symmetry so favored by ad-men and photographers. Her face was plainly that of a woman in her early forties: it had been used to laugh and cry, and usage leaves its marks. But she had a power to transform herself, in the subtlest way, making that face as various as the sky.

In his perversity, or his genius, or both

He'd never seen such a look on any human face: such a wilderness of innocent malice. A

Real people are messy and complicated and generally inconvenient, but at least they are there

He was the type of man women said they hated, they absolutely hated, they absolutely and categorically hated, and then they went to bed with him. I was the type of man women said they hated, and then they went home.

But it was a shouldn't with a hint of should.

Real life is disobliging. People like to think, or feel, in black and white. Having to assess the relative values of all those intermediate greys is tiresome and perplexing.

Everyone was fucked up in their own way; as before, it was a mark of one's individuality.

It was a gorgeous and intricate delusion, Manhattan, and from crooked angles on overcast days you saw it disintegrate, were forced to consider this tenuous creature in its true nature.

The word we. We are not one people but many different people. How can one person speak for this great, beautiful race – which is not one race but many, with a million desires and hopes and wishes for ourselves and our children? "For

I contain multitudes, most of them flawed.

It had never occurred to me before but everything in New York is built upon another thing, nothing is entirely by itself, each thing as strange as the last, and connected.

He looks like the sort of man who can't afford to leave, and doesn't want to stay, and so he is doing both at once.

The city was bigger than its buildings, bigger than its inhabitants too. It had its own nuances. It accepted whatever came its way, the crime and the violence and the little shocks of good that crawled out from underneath the everyday.

People think they know the mystery of living in your skin. They don't. There's no one knows except the person who carts it around her own self.