Quotes About Perception

As a bachelor, what can I say? The way of an eagle in the air; the way of a serpent upon a rock; the way of a ship in the midst of the sea; and the way of a man with a maid. They are four things which I know not.

The only thing that made an easy relationship between a man and a woman possible was that neither knew the true thoughts of the other.

All was strange in a fog, buildings grew vague, human beings groped and became lost, the landmarks, the compass points, by which they navigated melted into nothingness and the world was transfigured into a country of the blind. But if the sighted became blind, then the blind - and for some odd reason I have always regarded myself as one of the blind - the blind became sighted, and I remember felling at home in the fog, happily at ease in the murk and gloom that so confused my neighbors.

A tissue of small sounds filled the room, a bird, a clock, a voice from another garden. What we call silence.

As we shook hands I wondered idly what her urine looked like.

We see nobody clearly. We see only the ghosts of absent others, and mistake for reality the fictions we construct from blueprints drawn up in early childhood. This is the problem.

There is something I have learned since being paralyzed, and that is that in the absence of sensory information, the imagination always tends to the grotesque.

Di solito vogliono che tu tenga la bocca chiusa, a volte pretendono che gridi, e si aspettano che tu sappia la differenza. Era questo che trovava buffo.

In those days, I thought I was happy.

And yet, from time to time, beneath this thick layer of amnesia, you can certainly sense something, an echo, distant, muted, but of what, precisely, it is impossible to say. Like finding yourself on the edge of a magnetic field, with no pendulum to pick up the radiation.

I noticed a phenomenon that doesn't often happen to a man: several women turned round as he passed them.

The letters dance before my eyes. Who am I?

The other day, I happened to walk through it. I had a strange sensation. Not that time had passed, but that another me, a twin, was prowling around there -- down to the smallest detail, and until the end of time -- through what I had experienced over a very short period.

One has to be aware of so-called witnesses.

I recognized one of the qualities I most admired in my wife: the beautiful big handwriting of the illiterate that she was. Darling,

I have never respected chronological order. It has never existed for me.

Somos classificados nas mais estranhas categorias, das quais nunca ouvimos falar, e que não correspondem ao que somos, em absoluto. Convocam-nos. Internam-nos. Bem que gostaríamos de saber o motivo.

Ultimately, how far away exactly does a novelist remain? At the margins of life in order to describe it, because if you are immersed in it – in the action – the image you have of it is mixed up.

On vous classe dans des catégories bizarres dont vous n'avez jamais entendu parler et qui ne correspondent pas à ce que vous êtes réellement.

Cette sensation d'étrangeté est la même que celle qui vous prend lorsque vous marchez en rêve dans un quartier inconnu. Au réveil, vous réalisez peu à peu que les rues de ce quartier étaient décalquées sur celles qui vous sont familières le jour.

Je me rends compte aujourd'hui qu'il m'a fallu écrire deux cents pages pour capter, inconsciemment, un vague reflet de la réalité.

Et quand elle se mêlait aux autres, elle n'attirait pas non plus l'attention. Elle demeurait silencieuse et réservée et se contentait d'écouter.

Purposes are threads of continuity that we weave into the long-term view of our lives. Goals come and go, but purposes survive because they are long-term, they pertain to the why we exist part of our lives. They relate to how we perceive the theory of our lives.

To protect our self-image, we kid, trick, and fool ourselves into believing the visible you is somehow real. To see ourselves as we really are, we must acknowledge our inability to do so without God's help.