Quotes About Perception

gauging the truth of a person merely by looking is a fool's habit.

I think beauty can be a great lie. Sometimes the greatest lie.

S)cents connects us to a past we can't always see, that seems lost but can so easily be conjured up and found.

I could see my face, crying, in her blank eye.

was like I kept buying these things to be cool, but cool was always flying just ahead of me, and I could never exactly catch up to it.

We ain't anything more than a name and some likes and some distastes and a story we tell about ourselves.' 'And what others say about us.' 'If you want them stories heaped in, too, then you're welcome to them. And we're a body; and sometimes the stories and the name, they live on after the body.

The hand that records is also what makes everything unclear.

It is ever the lot of children to accept their circumstances as universal, and their particularities as general.

With a hologram, like when your teacher is one of them, if you aren't looking right at them, they sometimes seem to be hollow. You see them and suddenly they don't have a face that pokes out. Their faces poke in, their nose and so on, and there is nothing inside them. If you don't look right at them, they can look just like an empty shell.

they told me of color, that it was an illusion of the eye, an event in the perceiver's mind, not in the object; they told me that color had no reality; indeed, they told me that color did not inhere in a physical body any more than pain was in a needle. And then they imprisoned me in darkness; and though there was no color there, I still was black, and they still were white; and for that, they bound and gagged me.

Katie cleared her throat again. Then she looked into the window at her gums. She said, "To change the subject, do you think I could tell if I had gingivitis?

Because we ain't anything more than a name and some likes and some distastes and a story we tell about ourselves.

We were as strangers, in the moment-as intimate as strangers-for strangers know more of us, and can judge of us more without reproach than ever those we love.

I always thought you were someone things happened to." "What sorts of things?" "You know. I thought you led a life of risk and adventure." She shrugged. "Here's what I know: People will think that, if you have a certain kind of hair.

So what were people getting so excited about? What was this symphony saying to them? We are still arguing about that a whole human lifetime later. Audiences are still trying to decipher the codes in Shostakovich's symphonies, trying to see under the masks he wore to the true face we expect to find beneath. "It's very difficult to speak through a mask," as the writer Viktor Shklovsky said, but "only a few can play themselves without it.

M.T. Anderson

As one Shostakovich biographer put it, "Testimony is a realistic picture of Dmitri Shostakovich. It just isn't a genuine one.

No one comes from Rome or Samarkand to see brown flowers.

I'm electric with vertigo, even though I'm on the ground, vertigo like I felt once when I stood on the edge of a high cliff in Arizona and looked straight down.

How can we ever tell what the world really looks like? On a misty day, even the hills of Elfland are gray and dismal. Look through a gemstone, and the dullest street sparkles. I have had both my eyes put out by goblins, and so, for me, the world is profoundly dark. --- Lemuel of Chartibrande, On the Elfin Sciences & Magical Arts

How can we ever tell what the world really looks like? On a misty day, even the hills of Elfland are gray and dismal. Look through a gemstone, and the dullest street sparkles. I have had both my eyes put out by goblins, and so, for me, the world is profoundly dark.

Lily asked, "What do you mean when you say Number One's eyes were different?" "Like a cat's eyes. You know what a cat's eyes look like?" "No," said Katie. "Because my cat is so completely lazy I've never seen her eyes actually open." "Which?" said Lily. "Trish?" "She didn't move for a week. Dad thought she was dead. We were about to bury her when someone noticed the chicken was missing from the counter.

they told me of color, that it was an illusion of the eye, an event in the perceiver's mind, not in the object; they told me that color had no reality; indeed, they told me that color did not inhere in a physical body any more than pain was in a needle. And then they imprisoned me in darkness; and though there was no color there, I still was black, and they still were white; and for that, they bound and gagged me.

I am messaging you to say that I love you, and that you're completely wrong about me thinking you're stupid. I always thought you could teach me things. I was always waiting. You're not like the others. You say things that no one expects you to. You think you're stupid. You want to be stupid. But you're someone people could learn from.