Quotes About Perspective

No one knows the weight of another's burden

No one knows the weight of another's burden. GEORGE HERBERT

There are moments in life – so few you can count them – when time's perspective seems to shift quite literally. In those moments, a second can last a minute, or freeze to near-eternity. Soldiers know this. But homes can be war zones too.

Watching TV puts your own hell into a different perspective, if that's what you want. Today I do.

None of us got it right. The message was written in letters too big to read, letters that could only be deciphered from a vast distance or an unusual angle. We were as good as blind. This, by the way, is a figurative expression. Unlike many on the spectrum, I can deploy those.

It's all very well going round with two fingers stuck up at the world, but what happens when the world turns round and sticks them back up at you? The world's a lot bigger than I am.

You know how chickens are, imagining the world coming to an end one moment, then pecking corn the next.

If a storyteller worried about the facts - my dear Lucian, how could he ever get at the truth?

Any fool can tell a story. Take a few odds and ends of things that happen to you, dress them up, shuffle them about, add a dash of excitement, a little color, and there you have it.

I've heard men complain of doing woman's work, and women complain of doing man's work," she added, fastening her bony thumb and forefinger on Gurgi's ear and marching him to a stool beside Taran, "but I've never heard the work complain of who did it, so long as it got done!

I know it isn't nice to vex people on purpose—it's like handing them a toad—but this is much too good to miss and I may never have another chance at it.

Children's literature as a literary aberration or at best a minor amusement is a notion held most strongly by people who read the fewest children's books. I think it was Ruth Hill Viguers who compared this attitude with asking a pediatrician when he's going to stop fooling around and get down to the serious business of treating adults.

One way everything looks all right, the other way, it looks all wrong.

Vi är varken onda eller goda. Vi är helt enkelt intresserade av saker precis som det de är.

if you grow up with any kind of sense - which you sometimes make me doubt - you will very likely reach your own conclusions. They will probably be wrong. However, since they will be yours, you will feel a little more satisfied with them.

Things seem more when you're little. They seem bigger, and distances seem farther.

you have more than you know. And people will want what you have.

A lot of people I know would hate that ending, but not me. I loved it. Mainly because I got to make the book happy. I decided they made it. They made it to the past. I decided the past was our world, and the future was their world. It was parallel worlds.

When would he ever learn to stop saying "Look" to a man who had no eyes?

We're so accustomed to laughing. It's harder for us when the time comes that we can't laugh.

It was a long time ago. Though it seems, sometimes, that most things that matter happened a long time ago, that is not really true. What is true is this: bu the time you realize how much something mattered, time has passed; by the time it stops hurting enough that you can tell about it, first to yourself, and finally to someone else, more time has passed; then, when you sit down to begin the telling, you have to begin this way: It was a long time ago.

We're the ones who fill in the blank spaces. Maybe we can make it different.

There are only three weeks left, Matty. After the border closes it will be too late. She won't be allowed to come. You must bring her here before that happens. If you don't, Matty, I will never see her again. It always seems strange to me when you say 'see.' The blind man smiled. I see in my heart, Matty.

But suddenly Jonas had noticed, following the path of the apple through the air with his eyes, that the piece of fruit had—well, this was the part that he couldn't adequately understand—the apple had changed. Just for an instant. It had changed in mid-air, he remembered. Then it was in his hand, and he looked at it carefully, but it was the same apple. Unchanged. The same size and shape: a perfect sphere. The same nondescript shade, about the same shade as his own tunic.