Best 477 quotes in «seeing quotes» category

To understand your fear is the beginning of really seeing.

Traveling is seeing; it is the implicit that we travel by.

Travelling is the ruin of all happiness. There's no looking at a building here after seeing Italy.

Until you go to Kentucky and with your own eyes behold the Derby, you ain't never been nowhere and you ain't seen nothin'!

Vipassana meditation is not just seeing the things inside. It is also seeing the seer.

Watching Bo Jackson, seeing his size, his speed, a lot of his abilities, really drove me.

We all, as women, need to continue to change our gaze from how we are seen to how we are seeing.

We all have that possibility, that potential and that promise of seeing beyond the seeming.

We are exceptionally good at seeing the faults in others and exceptionally adept at ignoring the faults in ourselves.

We are nature. We are nature seeing nature. The red-winged blackbird flies in us.

We do not know what we see, but we see what we know.

we are nature. We are nature seeing nature. We are nature with a concept of nature. Nature weeping. Nature speaking of nature to nature.

We as women are trained to see ourselves as cheap imitations of fashion photographs, rather than seeing fashion photographs as cheap imitations of women

We find certains things about seeing puzzling, because we do not find the whole business of seeing puzzling enough.

We estimate the wisdom of nations by seeing what they did with their surplus capital.

We have at our disposal modern techniques for seeing everything, apprehending everything, yet we see nothing.

We have no interest in seeing an unstable Yemen or seeing a Yemen that is devastated.

We just started seeing a nutritionist who changes our diet every 10 days.

We hear things, but we can't always see them, or, even if we do see them, we're not sure that we're seeing correctly. Hence: Invisible.

We run carelessly to the precipice, after we have put something before us to prevent us seeing it.

We must, therefore, pursue the things that make for happiness, seeing that when happiness is present, we have everything; but when it is absent, we do everything to possess it.

We say seeing is believing, but actually, we are much better at believing than at seeing. In fact, we are seeing what we believe all the time and occasionally seeing what we can't believe

We run heedlessly into the abyss after putting something in front of us to stop us from seeing it.

We love but while we may; And therefore is my love so large for thee, Seeing it is not bounded save by love.

We’re seeing that business models and philanthropic models are not mutually exclusive.

What makes you happy is seeing someone else smile because you put it there. That's what's awesome about living in this world.

When invitation come, then I inquire just to see new place or seeing just the one sort of family, then not much interest.

What this means is that people are seeing a stable business, which is good, and a business that is in control, which is also good.

What we are seeing here is environmental injustice

When I'm in the second attention, when I stop looking through eyes that have been formed for me by others, I see something else. I see power.

When I'm in love with a woman, seeing her in something cozy makes me not want to let go of her when I'm holding her.

Worth seeing, yes; but not worth going to see.

When the sun sets, candle starts seeing itself like the sun!

Women are not allowed to be [complicated] in our society. We're comfortable seeing women as great mothers, and then we're comfortable seeing them as hookers, but there's no in-between.

Worship starts with seeing something great and then reflecting it to the world. Let's see God so we can reflect God.

You really can't turn on TLC without seeing us.

Writing is seeing. It is paying attention.

Wrong is wrong; no fallacy can hide it, no subterfuge cover it so shrewdly but that the All-Seeing One will discover and punish it.

You can't walk two steps without seeing a pregnant teen.

You are seeing me now, when I am old and ugly; you should have seen me then, when I was young and ugly.

You can fulfill your whole life in one hour of inner seeing.

A kind of northing is what I wish to accomplish, a single-minded trek towards that place where any shutter left open to the zenith at night will record the wheeling of all the sky’s stars as a pattern of perfect, concentric circles. I seek a reduction, a shedding, a sloughing off. At the seashore you often see a shell, or fragment of a shell, that sharp sands and surf have thinned to a wisp. There is no way you can tell what kind of shell it had been, what creature it had housed; it could have been a whelk or a scallop, a cowrie, limpet, or conch. The animal is long since dissolved, and its blood spread and thinned in the general sea. All you hold in your hand is a cool shred of shell, an inch long, pared so thin that it passes a faint pink light. It is an essence, a smooth condensation of the air, a curve. I long for the North where unimpeded winds would hone me to such a pure slip of bone. But I’ll not go northing this year. I’ll stalk that floating pole and frigid air by waiting here. I wait on bridges; I wait, struck, on forest paths and meadow’s fringes, hilltops and banksides, day in and day out, and I receive a southing as a gift. The North washes down the mountains like a waterfall, like a tidal wave, and pours across the valley; it comes to me. It sweetens the persimmons and numbs the last of the crickets and hornets; it fans the flames of the forest maples, bows the meadow’s seeded grasses and pokes it chilling fingers under the leaf litter, thrusting the springtails and the earthworms deeper into the earth. The sun heaves to the south by day, and at night wild Orion emerges looming like the Specter over Dead Man Mountain. Something is already here, and more is coming.

Youth sees too far to see how near it is To seeing farther.

Above all, I wish to see.

After all, that is what the merely casual onlooker always sees — the outward appearance, the non-functional, the surfaces of things. No one who is really involved in the landscape ever sees the landscape.

A blind man’s thoughts almost never have anything to do with the things he is facing.

After I'd drawn the grasses, I started seeing them. Whereas if you'd just photographed them, you wouldn't be looking as intently as you do when you are drawing, so it wouldn't affect you that much.

A kid thinking about fairy tales and believing in fairy tales Acts like a sick god, but like a god. Because even though he affirms that what doesn’t exist exists, He knows things exist, that he exists, He knows existing exists and doesn’t explain itself, And he knows there’s no reason at all for anything to exist. He knows being is the point. All he doesn’t know is that thought isn’t the point. (10/1/1917)

All at once, something wonderful happened, although at first, it seemed perfectly ordinary. A female goldfinch suddenly hove into view. She lighted weightlessly on the head of a bankside purple thistle and began emptying the seedcase, sowing the air with down. The lighted frame of my window filled. The down rose and spread in all directions, wafting over the dam’s waterfall and wavering between the tulip trunks and into the meadow. It vaulted towards the orchard in a puff; it hovered over the ripening pawpaw fruit and staggered up the steep faced terrace. It jerked, floated, rolled, veered, swayed. The thistle down faltered down toward the cottage and gusted clear to the woods; it rose and entered the shaggy arms of pecans. At last it strayed like snow, blind and sweet, into the pool of the creek upstream, and into the race of the creek over rocks down. It shuddered onto the tips of growing grasses, where it poised, light, still wracked by errant quivers. I was holding my breath. Is this where we live, I thought, in this place in this moment, with the air so light and wild? The same fixity that collapses stars and drives the mantis to devour her mate eased these creatures together before my eyes: the thick adept bill of the goldfinch, and the feathery coded down. How could anything be amiss? If I myself were lighter and frayed, I could ride these small winds, too, taking my chances, for the pleasure of being so purely played. The thistle is part of Adam’s curse. “Cursed is the ground for thy sake, in sorrow shalt thou eat of it; thorns also and thistles shall it bring forth to thee.” A terrible curse: But does the goldfinch eat thorny sorrow with the thistle or do I? If this furling air is fallen, then the fall was happy indeed. If this creekside garden is sorrow, then I seek martyrdom. I was weightless; my bones were taut skins blown with buoyant gas; it seemed that if I inhaled too deeply, my shoulders and head would waft off. Alleluia.

Almost nothing need be said when you have eyes.