Quotes About Perception

This is the breaking point in a human life, right here. This is waking up on an operating table to find aliens peering down at you, this is hearing the audible voice of God telling you the date the world will end. This is seeing a family of bigfoots in the forest and being without a camera. Welcome to freakdom, Dave. It'll be time to start a website soon.

So why do we call her crazy for piling her trailer full of more cats than she could take care of but applaud when somebody accumulates more money than they can spend? They're both hoarders.

You are now aware that your lower jaw has weight, and that it requires effort for you to hold it up. Good evening.

It's like in the moment Tasker asked to speak to us, we simultaneously split into three separate timelines. If you understand how this sort of thing could work, please write down your explanation with as much clarity and detail as you can, then throw it in the trash because who gives a shit.

You see, time is an ocean, not a garden hose. Space is a puff of smoke, a wisp of cloud.

We don't feel like that's a good faith offer, because it seems more like you're just trying to save money on cockroaches.

The man who greeted her on the sidewalk was named Hank Kowalski. He was bald and had the eyes of a man whose favorite joke is just a shrieking child falling down a flight of stairs.

Contrary to what TV and movies have told you, it's nearly impossible to have a hallucination that you can both see and hear—the mentally ill either just hear voices, or just see things, due to how the brain is wired.

At this point, John flung himself to the ground and screamed, "YOU SHOT ME! AAARRRRGHHH!" Not a shot had been fired. I rushed to John's side. "You shot him! He has four kids! Or should I say, four orphans.

Falconer was wearing his street clothes—jeans, a black turtleneck and an empty shoulder holster under his armpit. Cowboy boots. Little bit of beard stubble. John wondered if the guy would walk from one end of the street to the other without winding up covered in bitches.

That is how the human brain works, when it looks at a formless cloud, it tries to see a shape, or a face, or otherwise associate it with something that makes sense in some known cultural context, like the proverbial image of the Virgin Mary seen in the grain of a tree stump, or a slice of toast. But make no mistake—the observer supplies the face.

I bet his real name is Chad, he looks like one.

but anyway he says that when you read the Bible, the Devil looks back at you through the pages.

I stared at the thing, blinking, thinking it would reveal itself to be, I don't know, a hot-water heater or something. Then I realized the monster-shaped shadow was, surprisingly, a monster.

THEY SAY LOS Angeles is like The Wizard of Oz. One minute it's small-town monochrome neighborhoods and then boom—all of a sudden you're in a sprawling Technicolor freak show, dense with midgets. Unfortunately, this story does not take place in Los Angeles.

Are the most dangerous creatures the ones that use doors or the ones that don't?

We simplify tens of millions of individuals down into simplistic stereotypes, so that they hold the space of only one individual in our limited available memory slots. And here is the key—those who lie outside the circle are not human. We lack the capacity to recognize them as such.

Did you doze off there?" He shook my hand. "Uh, no. I was just tryin' to rub somethin' off the back of my eyelid.

No matter who you are or where you're from, we can all look upon the raw, energetic creations of children and agree that they are very shitty artists.

I squinted drunkenly into the rearview mirror and tried in vain to find the headlights of the black truck that was chasing us, but I actually wasn't sure if its drivers needed headlights to see or if they even had eyes. I also wasn't sure it was a truck, or if it was black, or if we were being pursued at all. It was definitely raining, though.

But in those first hours after you take it, your brain is tuned in like nothing you can imagine. Eyes like the Hubble telescope, sensing light that's not even on the spectrum. You might be able to read minds, make time stop, cook pasta that's exactly right every time.

If you've actually seen a ghost—and I assure you that you probably have, within the last month—it would have just looked like any real, solid person. It's likely nobody saw that person but you and no, you can't photograph them. You're not seeing them with your eyes.

They were steak-shaped dog treats, complete with little brown grill lines. I realized at that moment that no dog would know what those grill lines were and that they were purely for my benefit.

I then reached out, put my hands under his armpits and lifted him into the air. He was about as heavy as a department store mannequin. I doubt you've ever lifted one of those but you can probably guess that they're not very heavy.