Decoding Quotes

Quotes tagged as "decoding" Showing 1-4 of 4
Erik Pevernagie
“When the brain becomes too tired, the mind stops decrypting the perceptions in our mental world and surrenders willingly to the unguarded moments of life.
For some time, the safeguards of our thinking pattern weaken and discontinue the decoding of the chips of daily reality.
The mind picks the instants which are above suspicion, pure and innocent. ("Uber alle Gipfeln ist Ruh" )”
Erik Pevernagie

Erik Pevernagie
“Conspiracy adepts love story-tellers who want to exorcise their fear, mixing rational and irrational elements to construct a plausible narrative for people craving a meaningful decoding and a breathtaking clarification. ("What after bowling alone?" )”
Erik Pevernagie

Raymond Federman
“And so we must dig in to see where raw words and fundamental sounds are buried so that the great silence within can finally be decoded.”
Raymond Federman, To Whom it May Concern

Graham Greene
“He went upstairs and opened the telegram; it was addressed to a department in the British Consulate, and the figures which followed had an ugly look like the lottery tickets that remained unsold on the last day of a draw. There was 2674 and then a string of five-figure numerals: 42811 79145 72312 59200 80947 62533 10605 and so on. It was his first telegram and he noticed that it was addressed from London. He was not even certain (so long ago his lesson seemed) that he could decode it, but he recognised a single group, 59200, which had an abrupt and monitory appearance as though Hawthorne that moment had come accusingly up the stairs. Gloomily he took down Lamb's 'Tales from Shakespeare' - how he had always detested Elia and the essay on Roast Pork. The first group of figures, he remembered, indicated the page, the line and the word with which the coding began. 'Dionysia, the wicked wife of Cleon,' he read, 'met with an end proportionable to her deserts'. He began to decode from 'deserts'. To his surprise something really did emerge. It was rather as though some strange inherited parrot had begun to speak.”
Graham Greene, Our Man in Havana