Quotes About Observation

One does not call down archangels in my city, Detective, if one cares to go unnoticed.

The mantid was one of those creatures you could just hand around with, not saying anything and not notice the quiet because it felt natural.

Fortunately for terrible spies, most people are terrible observers.

Rien noticed the sameness in the shape of their features. Though Percival's face was squarer, and Tristen's was long, they were both thin and tall, with deep-set eyes. His nose wandered, hers was incongruously pert. Nevertheless, Rien thought the resemblance would have been striking if Perceval still had her hair, and if Tristen's was pigmented rather than wooly and white and if the line of his jaw wasn't concealed by his beard.

The twist of her mouth revealed what she thought of that idea. It made Lisa restrain a smile: it was also Katya's moue, and Lisa's son Julian made the same face when he was concentrating.

Garrett didn't miss the jeweled-serpent glitter in the man's eyes.

Tis not as thou wert not noted for the occasional abrupt disappearance.

Whiskey pricked up his ears, arching his neck, knowing himself displayed.

Elspeth thought he was watching her, and she made her expression intent and ungiving, resisting the urge to toy with her crucifix.

He looked so terribly young, a slender boy with a boy's narrow shoulders and his father's, green, green eyes.

She glanced over her shoulder, pinning the hapless patrolman on a needle-pointed gaze, wondering which of her notories occupied his attention.

Sebastien had raised Jack Priest, and for all his fey flighty affection, Garrett's estimation of the young man was that he was a keenly trained observer, and one who knew that the most relevant clues were sometimes those that seemed incomprehensible at the time. And that that ostensible delicacy masked a galvanized will. She kept a terrier. She knew the type.

He did not think he'd ever seen her lie down to rest, or even claim a need for it.

Seeker could have peered inside Morgan's cottage, but some perversity moved her to play fair.

If I turned my head to look at this woman on the street, it would be because of her hearing-because she is tall, and stern as the iron color of her hair. It would be because of the stubborn military shoulders and the chipped flint of an unmistakably Iroquois nose, the crows's-feet at the corners of her eyes. I might not even notice the glittering steel of her left hand until she moved into my line of sight.

I had seen her in the shadows. She had been waiting for some time.

I've got to give Wainwright credit. She doesn't say I told you so. She doesn't even think it real loud, although the vertical line over her shapely little nose advertises restrained wrath. The funny thing is, I don't think she's angry with me.

He's a fragile, girlish sort of a boy with eyes like watchful black jewels.

She stroked her chin with a thumb and a forefinger. No wonder people were staring; the effect was distracting.

A Gallic-nosed fellow, slight with silver-shot dark curls and dark eyes, brushed rudely past them just as Jack returned from the top of the plank. He reeked of vertiver and musk; Jack's nose wrinkled as he passed, and he half-smiled at himself to realize how accustomed he'd become to the Puritan cleanliness of American colonials, and their aversion to heavy perfumes.

Sebastien lay with closed eyes and listened to the silent, cool pressure of the couch, more an absence than a presence. It was as if a ghost lay down beside him. He knew without looking that David would be leaned on one elbow, studying Sebastien over the narrow bridge of his nose.

There is a thoughtfulness in her small nose and pointed chin that I am unused to seeing in the children of the Light.

How many can say they got to see the world end twice?

Lifting her head, blinking sweat from her lashes, she studied the vines on her right side, looking for a place with fever thorns.