Quotes About Perception

He wasn't dead. Unless the afterlife was just a crappy room of blackness.

My name is Kaine,' it said. 'And I see all.

You have a gift for making a compliment sound like an insult.

If I can tell you anything today, it is that you should never, ever believe your eyes. Or your mind, for that matter.

Everything is relative." The man didn't move a muscle as he spoke. "A knife is a godsend to the man tied in ropes, death to the man in chains.

Quiero decir, debería ser imposible, algunas veces no miras con la suficiente atención las cosas que no crees que pasaran o pueden pasar.

Thomas kept his focus on Gally. He saw a sadness in the boy's eyes that made his heart break. And he also saw something he'd never seen there before: trust. Genuine trust.

Ella sonrió por primera vez y él casi tuvo que desviar la mirada, como si no tuviera derecho de contemplar su expresión. Pensó que no podía ocurrir algo tan lindo en un lugar tan sombrío y gris.

For some reason, he was different from everyone else in the Glade. He felt like he'd lived an entire lifetime since awakening from his memory wipe, but he'd only been there a week.

And despite the fact that they all had their eyes open, every one of them looked dead.

We can't try to outguess them anymore. Sometimes they do things just to make me do the opposite of what they think I think they think I want to do." "Huh?" the three of them asked at the same time, confusion transforming their faces.

Yo me acuerdo que recordaba -murmuró. Emitió un largo suspiro mientras se sentaba, encogía las piernas y ponía los brazos alrededor de ellas-. Sentimientos. Emociones. Como si tuviera en mi cabeza estantes con etiquetas para los recuerdos y las caras, pero vacíos. Como si todo lo anterior esto se encontrara del otro lado de una cortina blanca. También tú.

I'm programmed so that only you two can see my old Aura. Everyone else sees an entirely different guy. Boom. Amazing, I know.

Shut up! Do you think we're morons?" Michael kept his expression blank. Oh how badly he wanted to say "Yup.

parecía un frío talismán que no sólo le decía que aquel futuro optimista nunca iba a suceder, sino que la vida nunca había sido de aquel modo.

When's a door not a door? she'd said in her thick accent. When? he'd asked When it's ajar.

How could they be in the same room and not joke about some smell or make fun of some clueless slouch nearby? How could she ever stand in front of him and not leap at the chance to communicate telepathically?

We are our thoughts and memories and personalities.

Frypan has no reason to process or think too deeply about the returning memories. They're not like new revelations, things to which he should respond somehow. They've always been there, inside him. He has already reactedto them. He has been shaped by them. He's not learning. He's not experiencing. He's remembering.

Era como si la realidad de vivir [...] por fin hubiese calado en su mente.

though somehow Thomas could still sense her presence. He felt her. It was almost like how, even though he couldn't see Minho, he knew his friend lay only a few feet above him. And it wasn't just the snoring.

She was thin, but not too small. Maybe five and a half feet tall, from what he could tell. She looked like she could be fifteen or sixteen years old, and her hair was tar black. But the thing that had really stood out to him was her skin: pale, white as pearls.

he had no ears.

Well, this is hard because I don't know what you know.