A Quote by James Roday

Dude, are my eyes seeing what my brain is telling my eyes that they're seeing? — © James Roday
Dude, are my eyes seeing what my brain is telling my eyes that they're seeing?

Quote Topics

Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the same things through my eyes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs. Maybe there was a glitch in my brain.
Prayer is the difference between seeing with our physical eyes and seeing with our spiritual eyes.
I have always been drawn to young characters and seeing big tapestries through the eyes of a child. It probably comes from being a father myself and having a young son and seeing the world through his eyes. I write stories that are sort of the exaggerated version of that.
Seeing is an experience. People, not their eyes, see. There is more to seeing than meets the eyeball.
We see with the eyes, but we see with the brain as well. And seeing with the brain is often called imagination.
A moment later, Liam's bright blue eyes opened, and he was seeing me. He just wasn't seeing Ruby.
I'm seeing the world partially through the eyes of a kid. Not all the time. There's no black and white to it. But sometimes I'm seeing it like I'm 4.
I could meet dreadful people and end up seeing the world through their eyes, seeing their frailties, their needs.
Photography is solitary and there are lags between seeing with your eyes and seeing through the lens, and then seeing the image on your computer... I often see things after the fact. So there’s a revelatory quality. And this definitely includes a sense of playfulness, because you’re not sure what the consequences are going to be.
The great poet is always a seer, seeing less with the eyes of the body than he does with the eyes of the mind.
If you had weak eyes, they needed exercise to get strong. Glasses were like crutches. They prevented people with feeble eyes from seeing the world on their own.
As an actor, you tell part of a story. As a writer, you get more of telling that story. But as a director, they're seeing the world through your eyes.
I glance into the faces of all these people out for a Sunday stroll, but I'm not seeing eyes and noses and mouths. I'm seeing stories. Every person has a story. All the hopes and dreams. And fears. And secrets. In every face.
There was something about telling the lie-story and seeing your friends' eyes grow wide with wonder. Of course I got in trouble for lying, but I didn't stop until fifth grade.
Suddenly the drunken sweetheart appeared out of my door. She drank a cup of ruby wine and sat by my side. Seeing and holding the lockets of her hair My face became all eyes, and my eyes all hands.
I didn't relate well to people my age. Maybe the truth was that I didn't relate well to people, period. Even my mother, who I was closer to than anyone else on the planet, was never in harmony with me, never on exactly the same page. Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the same things through my eyes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs. Maybe there was a glitch in my brain.
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