Quotes About Perception

She turned her head slightly, to examine me out of each eye, as though each saw a different world but only one could be trusted.

She heard the world humming deep in its throat, and when it rang with its soft pulse, she leaned forward to strike the gong.

Her face had been digitally erased and replaced by the star's, but I would have recognized anywhere those shoulders and tight waist, the way she turned like an eel through the air, as though she had all the time in the world.

The air was humid, so thick with moisture that she felt it like spider-webs across her face and kept wanting to hush it away, wipe it from her skin.

Watching in dumb show and from a distance made the whole thing look like some strange strange puppet performance, utterly divorced from me and my life.

She didn't like the princely Boldcloak much. She missed her Cian. Missed the Cian she might have told of misjudging bandits and what eagles saw.

She looked at the bag, slitty-eyed as a cat by a mouse hole.

She looked, left and right. She couldn't see as much as she'd like; the unfamiliar veil got in the way. No doubt she'd learn to manage that, how to use it to her advantage, as her mother did.

She moved faster, and so did he. She leaned farther, and so did he. Then she began to draw on the life around her-the hum in the air, the flight of the kicked dirt-and changed again.

When she climbed out of the car, I saw the difference, the sleekness, her buttocks as ripe as mangoes, her arms and legs plump and muscled.

Saying what made people in power think well of you was as much a habit for Breguswith as showing her curves was for Gwladus.

She breathed in and out, in and out. He breathed as fast as she did. She felt the muscles sliding over his ribs. He smelt of thyme and mead and that iron-and-salt tang that made her nostrils flare.

Hild, on the first boat with Eorpald and Edwin, smelt it before she saw it: the old, cold scent of deep, turned dirt; the smell of bones.

If she had just asked! But no. She pushes me into a corner where there's no choice." "It's what women do: weave the web, pull the strings, herd into the corner. It's their only power. Unless they're seers.

When you understood what made people happy, you understood them.

Gwaldus tugged at her collar again. She looked nothing like Hereswith. She was at least two years older, half a hand shorter. Her eyes were grey-green, and her hair would be paler when washed. Her whole body would be paler. Her nipples were more pink than red.

The sense of the world shifting was so strong she swayed in the saddle.

The look she gave me was full of meaning, but I had no idea what it was.

Onnen liked Mulstan, Hild could tell. She also knew Onnen liked the way he ran his holdings, though it lacked the fine and sharp efficiency a woman would bring to the housebold. She liked his daughter and his servants and the ease his housefolk felt in the hall. And she leaned in towards him as though she liked his smell. And Mulstan liked her; Hild saw the way his nostrils flared as Onnen laughed at something he said and patted his arm.

I can't tell you what is right," she said, "but I can tell you what is expected by others, and by this child. It doesn't matter what she calls you. Mom or Tante or Aud, if legally you are her mother, somewhere inside she will expect you to behave as one. It doesn't matter if this is likely, or even possible, it is what she will expect.

Peretur had never seen so many beasts living in so small a space; even closed, if she shut her eyes she could hear them, feel them, taste their curiosity.

Peretur patted Bony's shoulder, and could not tell if the horse trembled or she did. Was this fear?

I've heard horror stories of Old Masters wrapped in newspapers and arriving with ghastly copes of the funnies imprinted on a stately old forehead.

One had to sit still and really quiet to really see, really hear.