Quotes About Perception

She cocked her head slightly as though listening to a voice only she could hear.

I stood behind him for nearly a minute-close enough to smell the familar bitter hint of coffee grounds-before he jerked around and whipped off his shades.

She looked at him, at his sly eyes and stubbled tonsure.

More and more now she could tell the difference between what was real and what was a mix of memory and nightmare; more and more she felt sure that if she spoke she would be speaking to the living, not ghosts.

Julia stood and they shook hands in that brittle Southern girl-girl squeeze of limp fingers; the one that says, When did they start letting people like you in? Dornan, of course, noticed none of this. His world was full of Tammy, his girl, his fiancée, the light of his life.

After a while I decided he was calculating camera angles and placement, studying pedestrian traffic patterns, gauging penetration zones, and it became obvious that he didn't see people at all, that I could smile and wave at him every time he looked my way and he wouldn't notice me. I would be just another data point, part of a flow pattern, a consumer unit.

My face looked like a picture of someone else. I turned this way and that. No, more like a picture of a rock after some vandal has ripped off its decades-old layer of moss and soil, and the bare stone is revealed.

She looked nothing like that young wife, and nothing like the men with hair on their faces. Her mother's hair, almost, but not her eyes.

The world felt rude and fragile and new as though she had lately risen from her sickbed.

She would have to remember that those who weren't used to her, or who hadn't been around her for a while, saw the legend first: twice uncanny. Wielder of wyrd, dealer of death, the king's seer.

For a moment Peretur could not speak, only sit with sensation flickering up and down her belly and back, like a school of fish swimming in and out of the light.

Peretur did not argue, she did not think of arguing. They were in accord, even though she could no longer see into Nimuë, in that shared moment she felt-and knew Nimuë felt-that they had known each other all their lives.

Breguswith's eyes were hard, bright blue, with none of that milky aging Hild saw in Æffe's and Brugen's eyes.

I'm not pretty." "You don't need to be pretty. You're like lightning. Like a tide. Like a blizzard." "Something to run from." "Something to get caught up in. Somthing to remember for the rest of your life.

She looked at me with the same concentration she had directed at the painting. I felt her gaze on the bones, the cant of my eyebrows; weighing the line of jaw and length of neck; noting colour and shadow.

The world sharpened suddenly, as brilliant and bright as when she got rain in her eye.

Hild realised that every shape the man's body made refused the words, and the bard was nodding along. The bard had made the speech.

First the half-lidded look, then the widening eyes, the black pupils swelling like ink dropped in water, swallowing the blue centres leaving the outer pleats of his eyes green and glistening, swarming like flies looking for something to eat, someone to hurt to make himself strong and safe.

Your eyes are different in this light. No colour at all. Like cement.

Have you kissed anyone? Boldcloak? Your gemæcce?" Hild shook her head. "Well, perhaps they were frightened of kissing the king's seer. But I'm not. I know what you need.

It was like being inside a lyre, inside a drum, inside a pipe. Hild thought her head might burst.

Geordie Karp hurt people and manipulated them because they weren't real to him. He acted as if he were human, but he was a monster.

Cei called more taunts, but she was smelling the wind and no longer listening.

I imagined Cei as the kind of English rugby player I used to know: mostly kind—if he thinks you're like him; not stupid but lazy and willing to learn only when prodded; and (mostly) just this side of being an asshole but (almost) always very close to the line. Basically, a jerk but with some good points, and useful in a fight. I've spent a lot of time in a lot of pubs with men like Cei.