Quotes About Perception

In real man, the "god-given" genital embrace has turned into the pornographic 4-lettering male-female intercourse.

Sen onlara ancak ?öyle sahip ç?kars?n küçük adam: Öteki küçük adamlar, bu büyük adamlar?n gerçekten büyük oldu?unu sana söyledi?i zaman.

Tepetaklak duruyorsun, her ?eyi tersten görüyorsun; böyle durmakla, özgürlük türküsünün e?li?inde dans etti?ini san?yorsun. Gördü?ün bu karabasandan uyanacaks?n küçük adam ve göreceksin ki, yata??ndan yuvarlanm??, çaresizlik içinde yerde yatmaktas?n. Çünkü sana bir ?ey verenden çal?yor, seni soyana bir ?eyler veriyorsun.

Bilgili kimseye öykünmeyi beceremiyorsun ama soyguncuya öykünmeyi çok iyi beceriyorsun. Filmlerin, radyo programlar?n, "güldürü kitaplar?n" hep cinayetlerle dolu.

People who do not understand themselves have a craving for understanding.

People get sick from ''not wanting to see''.

We have not the remotest realistic inkling of a consciousness which is not self-consciousness.

Qué es el sentido común sino la pereza inherente a nuestro entendimiento, de salir del recinto tan pequeño y tan mezquino de nuestras representaciones y admitir la posibilidad de otras premisas?

Our words are giants when they do us an injury, and dwarfs when they do us a service.

I say what other people only think, and when all the rest of the world is in a conspiracy to accept the mask for the true face, mine is the rash hand that tears off the plump pasteboard, and shows the bare bones beneath.

I can even hear the sun. It sounds like a jet taking off in the middle of the night.

Which do you prefer, she says. Sex or Violence? I try to smile. What's the difference, really.

Reality is in the business of killing off fiction.

The digital sunset always looks better than the real thing, always. Because a sunset generated by the basic package of yellow sun and blue sky is unreliable. Today it may be stunning, hypnotic. Tomorrow it may be lifeless and dull, a white sky scorched with yellow. Tomorrow the sky will be velvet.

Open your eyes, boy. Your eyes. Open your eyes and no more turn aside and brood.

The years tumble past you like bits of paper on the street and you may not even feel the breeze at your back but then something catches your eye, a twist of black hair or a dog leaping to catch a tennis ball. The splintered chorus of a stupid pop song. You turn around and another chunk of your life drifts by like unrecognized trash and it was never yours to begin with.

I stare at Isabel without blinking. I stare until I can see the pale roots of her natural hair and the expensive skin cream that changed her skin from milk to olive and the colored lenses that gave her yellow eyes and I wonder how she changed her breasts and ass and shortened her legs. I stare at her until her eyes are pointed and her teeth glitter like fangs and I have to close my eyes. If she said her name was Lucy and she faked her death I would believe her.

If a cat does something, we call it instinct if we do the same thing, for the same reason, we call it intelligence.

Some people lose all respect for the lion unless he devours them instantly. There is no pleasing some people.

It's easy to see the faults in people, I know; and it's harder to see the good. Especially when the good isn't there.

Intelligence is the capacity to know what we are doing and instinct is just instinct. The results are about the same.

The call of the yellow-billed cuckoo of North America is often mistaken for a bloodhound drinking a bowl of milk. He goes coulp coulp coulp.

Men are superior to women, for one thing they can urinate from a speeding car.

We are often confident even when we are wrong, and an objective observer is more likely to detect our errors than we are.