Quotes About Observation

the classes themselves, which were prim and undemanding, bored me in a way school never had before. . .So I passed the class hours slouched in the back rows, keeping an eye on the trees outside for signs of wind direction and strength, drawing page after page of surfboards and waves.

It rained; then it snowed, and the snow stayed on the paved ground for long enough to become evenly blacked with soot and smoke-fall, evenly but for islands of yellow left by uptown dogs. Then it rained again, and the whole creation was transformed into cold slop, which made walking adventuresome. Then it froze; and every corner presented opportunity for entertainment, the vastly amusing spectacle of well-dressed people suspended in the indecorous positions which precede skull fractures.

That fever had passed; but for the rest of his life it never left his eyes.

It was the first time they had ever talked face to face and Breece divined in a moment of dizzy revelation something about Sutter that no one had noticed before. Why, he is mad, Breece thought. He's not what people say about him at all. He's not just mean as a snake or eccentric or independent. He's as mad as a hatter, and I don't know how they've let him go so long.

Times is always hard for some, the old man observed.

Be quiet, darling. Let pattern recognition have its way.

The child saw things that were too evident, too obvious for the trained eye.

But did it wake, Kumiko wondered, when the alley was empty? Did its laser vision scan the silent fall of midnight snow?

Situational awareness.

The waitress was a distracted-looking woman of indeterminate ancestry, acne scars sprinkled across her cheekbones, and she poured his coffee and took his order without actually indicating she understood English. Like the whole operation could be basically phonetic, he thought, and she'd have learned the sound of "two eggs over easy" and the rest. Hear it, translate it into whatever she wrote in, then give it to the cook.

The girl in 3.7 seemed engrossed in her phone. "What's she doing?" "Candy Crush Saga. Nondigital surveillance is weaponized boredom.

He did something with his mouth that approximated a grin. "Bein' followed, you." Far off, down in Nighttown, a water vendor cried his trade.

Okay, she said. What are the nodal points? Laney looked at the bubbles on the surface of his beer. It's like seeing things in clouds, Laney said. Except the things you see are really there.

Architectural photography can involve a lot of waiting; the building becomes a kind of sundial, while you wait for a shadow to crawl away from a detail you want, or for the mass and balance of the structure to reveal itself in a certain way.

Seated here, none too comfortably, on a truncated stalagmite, he could at least be glad the place made a decent flat white.

The best thing about having had all that done, aside from getting a new mouth, was that he'd gotten to see a little bit of Basel, going out for the treatments. Otherwise, he'd stayed in the clinic, per his agreement.

his face expressionless, the tip of his cane planted neatly on the sidewalk and his large hands one atop the other on the brass knob. "First thing that you learn," he said, with the tone of a man reciting a proverb, "is that you always gotta wait . . .

With his hands in the pockets of his jacket, he stared through the glass at a flat lozenge of vatgrown flesh that lay on a carved pedestal of imitation jade.

modelos de información: las señales que un particular creaba inadvertidamente en la red mientras observaba los asuntos mundanos y aun así indefinidamente múltiples de una sociedad digital

He drinks the vodka. He watches television. And every passing face is masked, mouths and nostrils concealed behind filters.

The half-shut eyes were dim with the infinite cynicism of adult life.

ÎnÈ›elese deodat? plictiseala acestei vieÈ›i unde fiecare poteca era o improvizaÈ›ie, iar o buna parte din viata diurna È›i-o petreceai urm?rindu-È›i piciorele

He turned a half pace on the sand. A semicircle of little boys, their bodies streaked with coloured clay, sharp sticks in their hands, were standing on the beach, making no noise at all. Fun and games, said the officer.

You could see the damp spot where each flake died, then you could mark the first flake that lay down without melting and watch the whole ground turn white.