Quotes About Perception

Women have always been far less violent than men, the author conceded. The facts speak for themselves. But why, then, he asked, are women so much more ferocious in their violence? It has always seemed to me that the answer lies in the question.

Here he is, the man who knows things and who should want to help me. But it is so hard to bring up things with any weight at all to a man like this. A man like this doesn't have real conversations.

That's what people never understand: They see us hard little pretty things, brightly lacquered and sequin-studded, and they laugh, they mock, they arouse themselves. They miss everything. You see, these glitters and sparkle dusts and magicks? It's war paint, it's feathers and claws, it's blood sacrifice.

We are never deceived," she says, her voice deep and ringing. "We deceive ourselves.

But I would never tell anyone that," Dr Severin adds, leaning forward once more. She smiles ruefully. "You can never tell a man or he'll think, Ah! That's what driver her. And that's a way to weaken her.

Its not that they want her. It's just they have this feeling, and they're off, Billy, they're way off, but they have this sense that, somehow behind that knockout face of hers, she's more like the women they see on the job, on patrol, on a case, in the precint house. Women with stories as long as their rap sheets, as their dangling legs…

and everything that's been seen and everything that's hidden.

Don't take this personally, Kit, but your hands are really big. Did you hassle steer?" "No steer," I say. "Only small-handed men.

That's what people never understand: They see us hard little pretty things, brightly lacquered and sequin-studded, and they laugh, they mock, they arouse themselves. They miss everything. You see, these glitters, and sparkle dusts and magicks? It's war paint, it's feathers and claws, it's blood sacrifice.

Two people, tightly twined, can begin to convince themselves of anything. There's reality and then there's the shared experience, which feels so much more real. Two people, needing each other, can come to believe things. Can come to believe wanting something was the same as making it happen. That it wasn't a choice, in the end, but the right thing to do, the fulfillment of some deeper calling.

The world is a fiction the brain constructs. The smell of a fresh peach, the punch of a firefly in the night sky. The lilting hush-hush of a first lullaby. The brain fashions it all and we don't know how or why.

If it hadn't been what it was, it would've been beautiful.

That's what people never understand: They see us hard little pretty things, brightly lacquered and sequin-studded, and they laugh, they mock, they arouse themselves. They miss everything. You see, these glitters and sparkle dusts and magicks? It's war paint, it's feather and claws, it's blood sacrifice.

If we look at it from eye corners, or from places other than the center of our head, isn't there a kind of terrible beauty in it?

Calling it lunacy makes it easier to explain away the things we don't understand.

The answers are what they are. Just because you don't like them doesn't mean they aren't true.

Impatient men are generous ones. Or haven't you learned that by now?

The material world is simply an expression of the mind; that's what so many fail to see. We're so dependent on what is before us that we discount our intuition. Yet if one dismisses instinct, how can one understand or believe in a world that exists beyond one's sight?

People forget that old women were young once, but d'you think we old women forget? In my heart, I'm still thirty.

Sight is one of the most easily deceived senses. I could make a coin disappear and your eyes would believe it gone, even if it were merely up my sleeve.

The only truth was whatever you could make someone believe.

we despise most those who know us at our worst. It's true. It's so true.

we despise most those who know us at our worst.

Omnia Mundi Fumus et Umbra