Quotes About Observation

Tara moved into the kitchen and went still at the condition of it. Formica countertops, she said as if she'd discovered asbestos.

Residents tended to consider it a God-given right to gossip and nose into people's business, and no one was exempt. -Lucky Harbor

Formica countertops," she said as if she'd discovered asbestos.

He kept his eyes on the road as he drove slowly toward the inn. Slowly, as in a-herd-of-turtles-stampeding-through-peanut-butter slowly. The guy didn't pass a single indent in the road that didn't require a nearly complete stop.

They took the elevator up with another couple who were lip locked for the entire ride. And not just lip locked but hand and leg locked too, really going to town, running their hands over each other like they were searching for ticks.

Their gazes locked and held for a long beat, like maybe he was taking her pulse from across the room, absorbing the fact that she was drenched and breathless. The corners of his mouth twitched. She'd amused him again.

Our earlobes line up with our nipples.

sight of him and narrowed her eyes. "You.

we have to remember that what we observe is not nature in itself but nature exposed to our method of questioning.

It seems that no matter how hard we try, or how unreasonable the resulting definition of reality, we just cannot avoid having to invoke the collapse of the wavefunction.

the Female Once-Over--a process by which one woman creates a detailed profile of another woman based upon about a million subtle details of clothing, jewelry, makeup, and body type, and then decides how much of a social threat she might be. Men have a parallel process, but it's binary: Does he have beer? If yes, will he share with me?

Susan hardly had begun to slow down when Tera appeared from between a couple of buildings and loped over to the car. I leaned forward, opened the door, and she got into the backseat. I threw her the extra clothes I had picked up, and she began to dress without comment. It worked, I said. We did it. Of course it worked, Tera said. Men are foolish. They will stare at anything female and naked.

I love watching him think, Maeve told Lily. You can almost hear that poor little hamster running and running on its wheel.

Susan smiled at me, giving Molly the Female Once-Over - a process by which one woman creates a detailed profile of another woman based upon about a million subtle details of clothing, jewelry, makeup, and body type, and then decides how much of a social threat she might be. Men have a parallel process, but it's binary: Does he have beer? If yes, will he share with me?

As far as I can tell, all cats [can see ghosts.] But they aren't terribly impressed with the fact that we're dead and still present. One rarely gets a reaction from them.

Your face looks like a sack of purple potatoes

You can describe it to them as much as you want. You can write books about what you felt, what you experienced. You can compose poems and songs about what it was like. But until they've seen it for themselves, they can't really know what it is you're talking about. A few people will clearly see the effect it had on you, will understand that much, at least. But they won't know.

The capacity of humanity to deny what is right in front of it is staggering.

I listened. Listening isn't hard to do. No one has practice at it, nowadays, but you can train yourself to pay attention to your senses if you work at it long enough.

I couldn't ever remember actually doing more than waving at this guy as I went past. I was pretty sure I hadn't ever introduced my dog. How did he know Mouse's name? Damned pooch is more a of people person than I'll ever be.

He fell into step beside me and we both got into the Blue Beetle — he got in the red door. I got in the white one, and we peered out over the grey hood[...]

Susan smiled at me, giving Molly the Female Once-Over—a process by which one woman creates a detailed profile of another woman based upon about a million subtle details of clothing, jewelry, makeup, and body type, and then decides how much of a social threat she might be. Men have a parallel process, but it's binary: Does he have beer? If yes, will he share with me?

You can describe it to them as much as you want. You can write books about what you felt, what you experienced. You can compose poems and songs about what it was like. But until they've seen it for themselves, they can't really know what it is you're talking about. A few people will clearly see the effect it had on you, will understand that much, at least. But they won't know.

Which just goes to show that my cat has considerably more sense than me.