Quotes About Perception

I don't know if I'm an action star or if that's just how things are shaping up. I would hate to be boxed into that forever, but it's probably just a strength as far as my type goes, and I'm fine with that.

ahorita me siento julieta aquí en el piso doce y tu mirándome desde el malecón infecto lleno de ratas, ay qué emoción, no cualquier día la hacen sentirse a una como julieta...

Pues eso no se sabe nunca –dijo el genio Vargas Llosa–. La amistad, como todo, es tan relativa, ¿no?

Tù, sin hablar, me miras y te aprietas a mí y haces tu llanto sin lágrimas, sin ojos, sin espanto. Y yo vuelvo a fumar, mientras las cosas se ponen a escuchar lo que no hablamos.

He was insane, he thought people were trying to destroy him, to suck out his guts, but, she noted, in the rare event that someone was trying to destroy you, to suck out your guts, insanity was a goodly metaphysics.

A lady came up to me on the street and pointed at my suede jacket. "Did you know a cow was murdered for that jacket?" she sneered. I replied in a psychotic tone, "I didn't know there were any witnesses. Now I'll have to kill you too."

Both the devil and the artist share the same dream: to unknow the world.

Tay glanced at Evans, whose short hair and well-scrubbed face unmistakably marked him as another American. So far, Tay thought, this had all the makings of an authentically crappy day. First the stupid building, and now all these Americans.

The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist." —Verbal Kint The Usual Suspects

If there's a world with ghosts, shouldn't we be constantly walking through hundreds of apparitions of just regular old people?

could respond, they heard a

But falsehood flies, and truth comes limping after it, as Jonathan Swift once said.

Well, you know what they say: One man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter.

When people say you're charming you're in deep trouble.

Do you see the queer thing about people like me? Sometimes we hold your retribution.

The night-soil men can see a bird walking in trees. It isn't a bird. It is a woman who has removed her skin and is on her way to drink the blood of her secret enemies. It is a woman who has left her skin i a corner of a house made out of wood. It is a woman who is reasonable and admires honeybees in the hibiscus.

Out of the corner of one eye, I could see my mother. Out of the corner of the other eye, I could see her shadow on the wall, cast there by the lamp-light. It was a big and solid shadow, and it looked so much like my mother that I became frightened. For I could not be sure whether for the rest of my life I would be able to tell when it was really my mother and when it was really her shadow standing between me and the rest of the world.

Looking at the horizon again, I saw a lone figure coming toward me, but I wasn't frightened because I was sure it was my mother. As I got closer to the figure, I could see that it wasn't my mother, but still I wasn't frightened because I could see that it was a woman.

I wrote home to say how lovely everything was, and I used flourishing words and phrases, as if I were living life in a greeting card - the kind that has a satin ribbon on it, and quilted hearts and roses, and is expected to be so precious to the person receiving it that the manufacturer has placed a leaf of plastic on the front to protect it.

She always said that she respected and liked us all equally, and I have to say that that attitude didn't go down well with me, accustomed as I was to being singled out and held up in a special way.

I began to feel alternately too big and too small. First, I grew so big that I took up the whole street; then I grew so small that nobody could see me — not even if I cried out.

She smelled sometimes of lemons, sometimes of sage, sometimes of roses, sometimes of bay leaf. At times I would no longer hear what it was she was saying; I just liked to look at her mouth as it opened and closed over words, or as she laughed. How terrible it must be for all the people who had no one to love them so and no one whom they loved so, I thought.

Mariah says, "I have Indian blood in me," and underneath everything I could swear she says it as if she were announcing her possession of a trophy. How do you get to be the sort of victor who can claim to be the vanquished also?

I liked that sentence then and I like that sentence now but then I had no way of making any sense of it, I could only keep it in my mind's eye, where it rested and grew in the embryo that would become my imagination