Quotes About Observation

The point of having a hypothesis is not to be right. It's about the data. Sometimes the data takes you in a direction you never imagined, and you have an interesting result.

I cannot forbear admiring the very great sagacity of the men who first invented this method," he said upon one return. "What makes you think it was men?" asked Lady Mary, raising an eyebrow. He stopped in his tracks and stared at her. "I—" "Men do not practice it. Why should they have invented it?" In answer, he turned on his heel and swept back out; he did not come back in for some time. Disaster

I will always protect you" he told me, his jaw tight, his eyes shadowed. "You deserve to feel safe in your own home. And I'll help you with the foundation. I'll teach you what you need to know to take this life like you were born to it. But this...us..." He swallowed. "It can't happen, Avery. I've seen the way Jamerson looks at you.

I'm Chase." he said. "Kind of an ironic name for a werewolf." The observation slipped easily off my tongue. The boy didn't blink. In fact, I was beginning to doubt that he'd blink once since I'd come into the room. "Werewolves do a lot of chasing." I explained. "And your name is Chase. Hee.

I turned my attention back to Kaitlin, who now appeared to be very conscientiously stalking my shoelace.

Mr. Collins shook his head. "Stay off the roof," he ordered. Then he paused. "Stay off all the roofs." The fact that he felt he had to make that clarification told me a great deal about Asher Rhodes.

When you were a kid," he continued, his voice even and low, "Your mother taught you to observe people. She also taught you not to get attached.

Tess," I said. For a moment, Emilia and I studied each other. She was tall, with strawberry-blond hair and eyes that walked the line between green and blue. She wore almost no makeup, except for a light gloss on her lips. "So you're Ivy Kendrick's sister," she said finally. "I thought you'd be taller." "I'll get right to work on that." Emilia cracked a very small smile.

Everything you said or did was a data point you put out there in the world.

It's not a ridiculous idea." Sloane stood up. Her voice trembled. "You just can't see it. You don't understand it. But just because you don't understand something doesn't mean you get to ignore it. You can't just pretend the pattern doesn't exist and hope it goes away." -Sloane

My companions could make observations. Sloane could generate relevant statistics. If there'd been witness testimony, Michael could have told us who was exhibiting signs of guilt. But here, now, looking at the pictures, this was my domain. I would have to backtrack to explain how I knew, to figure out how I knew -- but I was certain.

I understand you've been spending some time in the company of my son." Adam's father had a disconcerting stare. His eyes were hazel, close in color to my own, but there was an uncanny awareness in them—like he knew what you'd had for breakfast that morning and how you would sleep that night.

I was comfortable with silence, comfortable with letting questions go unanswered. Sometimes it was my best tool for making a person say more.

There was something intense in those words, in the expression on his face—like the boy who'd learned to see the world saw me.

The sales attendant's tone was so carefully nonjudgmental that I was almost certain she was judging me.

How will we know if it's changing us?" I asked. "Maybe we won't. The biggest changes happen so slowly you hardly notice them.

watch Mama and Papa while they sleep. It makes me feel strange and lovely and more like a shadow than a real girl—awake when no one else is, me and the moon smiling down on Mama and Papa while they dream.

It's about the important things, like the way their face lights up when they laugh, or the way they move as they're walking towards you, or the way their freckles create a map of the stars.

When we're in the act of wandering, we need to be present, not watching it through a lens.

I've learned the hard way that the best thing to do is say nothing about what you're really thinking. If you say nothing, they'll assume you're thinking nothing, only what you let them see.

Because after suffering a loss, you become a ghost in your own body. You observe yourself doing things and saying things that you might not normally do or say. You need something to ground you and prove to you that you're still here. As a way of feeling something. Anything.

When we're in the act of wandering, we need to be present, not watching though a lens.

But here's the thing- even if there aren't any aneurysms in there, these facts won't change: I will still be someone who watches; I will still be someone who is prepared and on the lookout, because at any moment the earth could stop spinning. I've lived through the worst thing that can ever happen to me, and I know firsthand what the world can do.

Your identifier is you. I remember your eyes. Your mouth. The freckles on both cheeks that look like constellations. I know your smiles, at least three of them, and at least eight of your expressions, including the ones you only do with your eyes. If I could draw, I would draw you, and I wouldn't need to look at you to do it. Because your face is stuck in my mind.