Quotes About Perception

He laughed lightly, but his eyes told another story. Ambury could smile ever so amiably while the daggers within his wit sliced one to shreds.

Silêncio. Quietude. A pulsação a criar uma calma absoluta. Uma Maior Consciência na perda de toda a percepção. A Flutuar agora. Ausência de perda. Ausência de medo. Ausência de tempo. Ausência de som. Uma perturbação. O centro a quebrar-se como vido negro

He looked at her as if she had just said something surprising. He appeared almost vulnerable for a moment.

Diane St. John had once said he looked as if he would speak in poetry, should he ever deign to speak at all.

Powersnoop," as one of my wry young patients calls it,

We were like gods at the dawning of the world, & our joy was so bright we could see nothing else but the other.

Odysseus inclines his head. "True. But fame is a strange thing. Some men gain glory after they die, while others fade. What is admired in one generation is abhorred in another." He spread his broad hands. "We cannot say who will survive the holocaust of memory. Who knows?" He smiles. "Perhaps one day even I will be famous. Perhaps more famous than you.

But perhaps no parent can truly see their child. When we look we see only the mirror of our own faults.

We are sorry, we are sorry. Sorry you were caught, I said. Sorry that you thought I was weak, but you were wrong.

I asked her how she did it once, how she understood the world so clearly. She told me that it was a matter of keeping very still and showing no emotions, leaving room for others to reveal themselves.

It was almost like fear, in the way it filled me, rising in my chest. It was almost like tears, in how swiftly it came. But it was neither of those, buoyant where they were heavy, bright were they dull.

What is admired in one generation is abhorred in another. We cannot say who will survive the holocaust of memory… We are men only, a brief flare of the torch.

It was my first lesson. Beneath the smooth, familiar face of things is another that waits to tear the world in two.

I do not think anyone can say what is in someone else.

The sound was pure and sweet as water, bright as lemons.

Most men do not know me for what I am." "Most men in my experience are fools," he said.

He said what he meant; he was puzzled if you did not. Some people might have mistaken this for simplicity. But is it not a sort of genius to cut always to the heart?

It is a common saying that women are delicate creatures, flowers, eggs, anything that may be crushed in a moment's carelessness. If I had ever believed it, I no longer did.

Name one hero who was happy. You can't.

Do not listen to your enemy, Odysseus had once told me. Look at them. It will tell you everything.

Everyone looked at me, because I was the most beautiful woman in the town. I don't say this to boast, because there is nothing in it to boast of. It was nothing I did myself.

named me Hawk, Circe, for my yellow eyes, and the strange, thin sound of my crying.

True is what men believe, and they believe this of you.

He was watching me closely, reading my face over and over, like a priest searching the auguries for an answer. I could see the slight line in his forehead that meant utmost concentration. Something shifted in me then, like the frozen surface of the Apidanos in spring. I had seen the way he looked at Deidameia; or rather the way he did not. It was the same way he had looked at the boys in Phtia, blank and unseeing. He had never, not once, looked at me that way.