Lachie slaps his arms around his body and hugs himself when he comes out of the water that's thick with the spaghetti of dark, leathery seaweed."Does it not try to drag you down to the bottom?" I say."No, sure it's like being stroked by mermaids" says Lachie.

As though what he did were the excuse for their own boredom then, and lack of concern.He is just like other people to them. He could easily have danced with a troupe of angels in Paradise every night and they wouldn't have guessed.

La lumière qui tombait du ciel sur la pierre, les plis de vêtements, la peau, les yeux, le regard, la bouche, l'étreinte, la tristesse, le lien, la force de ce lien, le visage et les mains réunis, étaient pour moi la répresentation précise de l'Amour ou de l'idée que je m'en faisais.

People want things to be real. If you give them an excuse, they'll believe you.

We are told about the world before we see it. We imagine most things before we experience them. And those preconceptions, unless education has made us acutely aware, govern deeply the whole process of perception.

Compliments you get free, the complaints you've to earn it.

He knocked absurdly on the skull like a man impatient for a door to open. His eyes glazed over. He appeared to be in the grasp of something beyond the reach of ordinary mortals.'Time is slowing,' he said in a leaden voice. 'Each moment grows and fattens like a drop of rain on a window sash, waiting to fall.

Truth is nothing but a formulated perception of experienced reality.

Lack of insight into each other’s private qualia of God, results in a never-ending argument between two people with vastly different conceptions of the term God.

We have many ways of creating our realities based on the different ways we perceive.