Quotes About Perception

It occurred to her that the Perry in her head had been nothing but a sentimental projection, extrapolated from the little boy he'd been. She didn't know the real Perry any more than Russ knew the real her. "How

How well aware the body was of what it wanted. How quickly it gleaned the news it could use.

Perhaps the soul was one of those tools built to do exactly one specific task, to know that I am I, and was mutable with respect to all other forms of knowledge?

We girls are supposed to at least have these amazing sexual powers, but in my recent experience this is just a lie told by men to make them feel better about having ALL the power.

He knows how love blinds people to the truth about the one they are in love with.

There's something very wrong when a taste bud is still reporting strangeness five hours after you had a sweetened drink. Do you know that if you smoke crystal meth even once, your entire brain chemistry is altered for the rest of your life? That's what stevia tastes like to me." "I'm not sitting here puffing on a meth stem, if that's what you're trying to say.

And when the event, the big change in your life, is simply an insight—isn't that a strange thing? That absolutely nothing changes except that you see things differently and you're less fearful and less anxious and generally stronger as a result: isn't it amazing that a completely invisible thing in your head can feel realer than anything you've experienced before?

If you were looking aside and mentally adding up the hours until the execution of a young killer, all that registered was something dark flashing by. But if you happened to be gazing directly at the window in question and you happened as well to be feeling unprecedentedly calm, four-tenths of a second was more than enough time to identify the falling object as your husband of forty-seven years.

Now Connie seemed to be suggesting that what made people complain about stupidity was their own stupidity.

You have some fine qualities, but imagination was never one of them.

Il Paradiso e l'inferno ce li creiamo da soli.

To be so vigorous and healthy and yet so nothing.

That everything in the society actually revolves about women, not men. The men are all looking at pictures of women, and the women are all communicating with other women.

I'm starting to think paradise isn't eternal contentment. It's more like there's something eternal about feeling contented. There's no such thing as eternal life, because you're never going to outrun time, but you can still escape time if you're contented, because then time doesn't matter.

The world was overpopulated with talkers and underpopulated by listeners, and many of her sources gave her the impression that she was the first person who'd ever truly listened to them.

And if the world refused to square with his version of reality then it was necessarily an uncaring world, a sour and sickening world, a penal colony, and he was doomed to be violently lonely in it.

Edith Wharton did have one potentially redeeming disadvantage: she wasn't pretty.

An odd thing about beauty, however, is that it's absence tends not to arouse our sympathy as much as other forms of privation do.

You could slap his wrist for saying it, but then he said it with his face, and you could spank him for making faces, but then he said it with his eyes, and there were limits to correction—no way, in the end, to penetrate behind the blue irises and eradicate a boy's disgust.

You know you'd rather read about me than experience me in person. Why pretend?

In effetti quando faceva compere in un grande magazzino i vestiti e gli utensili che non le sembravano connotanti risultavano sempre i più costosi nel loro genere. Chiaramente, se eri abbastanza ricco, potevi comprare la trasparenza.

the difference between him and her was her capacity for self-deception.

If time was infinite, then three seconds and three years represented the same infinitely small fraction of it.

he was afraid that if the idea that he was depressed gained currency, he would forfeit his right to his opinions. He would forfeit his moral certainties; every word he spoke would become a symptom of disease; he would never again win an argument.