Quotes About Observation

That year I stopped pacing along the sidelines during games because I noticed that whenever I got agitated, Dennis would become hyperactive. And if I argued with a ref, it would only give him license to do the same. So I decided to become as quiet and restrained as possible. I didn't want to set Dennis off, because once he got agitated, there was no telling what he might do. —

Here is the answer to Einstein's question about the moon. Yes, it is there when no one observes it – because the environment is already, and without cease, 'measuring' it. All of the photons of sunlight that bounce off the moon are agents of decoherence, and more than adequate to fix its position in space and give it a sharp outline. The universe is always looking.

W]hereas we might have been content enough to believe that electrons in a bright beam are wave-like and can be diffracted by the double slits, it is hard to understand how one-by-one passage of what seem to be particles (judging from the discrete bright spots that appear on the screen) can produce wave-like interference. We're forced to conclude that 'wave-like' electrons can interfere with themselves.

The plant-man said, 'I've observed that when a human is dealing with another, he's usually logical only if he's advancing his self-interests or has a desire to hurt or put down the other. Is this one of those situations?

When do I see a photograph, when a reflection?

There was a beauty in the trash of the alleys which I had never noticed before; my vision seemed sharpened, rather than impaired. As I walked along it seemed to me that the flattened beer cans and papers and weeds and junk mail had been arranged by the wind into patterns; these patterns, when I scrutinized them, lay distributed so as to comprise a visual language.

But at least he can still see the lights below us. Although maybe for him it doesn't matter.

I even gave up, for a while, stopping by the window of the room to look out at the lights and deep, illuminated streets. That's a form of dying, that losing contact with the city like that.

Her smile increased. She had perfect white regular teeth; Irish, Juliana decided. Only Irish blood could give that jawline such femininity.

The surveillance, he thought, essentially should be maintained. And, if possible, by me. I should always be watching, watching and figuring out, even if I never do anything about what I see; even if I just sit there and observe silently, not seen: that is important, that I as a watcher of all that happens should be at my place.

The rule of survival, he thought. Keep eye peeled regarding situation around you. Learn its demands. And- meet them. Be there at the right time doing the right thing.

And this is the straight dope, right here. These people are not exactly human. They don the dress but they're like monkeys dolled up in the circus. They're clever and can learn, but that is all.

I've never found a live, wild animal. It must be a fantastic experience to look down and see something living scuttling along. Maybe it'll happen someday to me like it did him.

Sheep are funny, the Whitlock said. Now, you look at how they behave when you throw some grub over the fence to them, such as corn stalks. Why, they'll spot that from a mile away. The Whitlock chuckled. They're smart when it comes to what concerns them. And maybe that helps us see what true smartness is; it isn't having read a lot of big books, or knowing long words...it's being able to spot what's to our advantage. It's got to be useful to be real smartness.

Mr. Tagomi turned to a passer-by, a thin man in rumpled suit. "What is that?" he demanded, pointing. The man grinned. "Awful, ain't it? That's the Embarcadero Freeway. A lot of people think it stinks up the view.

First, strangely, the owls had died. At the time it had seemed almost funny, the fat, fluffy white birds lying here and there, in yards and on streets; coming out no earlier than twilight as they had while alive the owls escaped notice.

It looks," Lotze said, gazing down, "as if it was designed by a Jew.

What does a scanner see? he asked himself. I mean, really see? Into the head? Down into the heart? Does a passive infrared scanner like they used to use or a cube-type holo-scanner like they use these days, the latest thing, see into me—into us—clearly or darkly?

You will manually feel this object with your left hand," he said to himself, "and at the same time you will look at it with your right. And then in your own words you will tell us—" He could not think out any more nonsense. Not without their help.

She scrutinized him with a mixture of pleasure and pity; or so he read her expression.

It has a wheel in its cage; ever seen a squirrel running inside a wheel? It runs and runs, the wheel spins, but the squirrel stays in the same spot. Buffy seems to like it, though. I guess squirrels aren't too bright, Rick said.

He stopped to look around. Everything was silent.

Little kids are that way; they feel if their parents aren't watching what they do then what they do isn't real.

Observing her youth, her automatic radiance, he said, "'I feel as old as yonder elm.'" "From Finnegans Wake," Kathy said happily. "When the old washerwomen at dusk are merging into trees and rocks." "You've read Finnegans Wake?" he asked, surprised.