The patterns in real music
Real music is made of a small number of shapes, repeated endlessly. Once your eye catches "that's that shape again," a whole bar becomes one chunk. Here are the ones to know on sight.
The scale fragment
Notes marching up or down by step — line-space-line-space, one direction. Your hand plays a piece of a scale it has drilled (Stage 4). See it, and you know the fingering without reading the notes.
The broken chord
Notes skipping in the same direction, same-colour to same-colour (line-line-line). Your hand plays an arpeggio shape (Stage 4 J). G–B–D is the G chord; D–F♯–A is the D chord.
The turn / neighbour figure
Up-and-back, or down-and-back, around one note. One finger wiggles to its neighbour and returns.
The sequence — the highest-leverage shape
A small shape repeated a step or a third higher (or lower). Read the first copy carefully; then your eye just says "and again, up a step" — a whole bar in one glance. A huge amount of Baroque and Classical music is sequences.
The leap, and the repeated note
A leap — a 4th, 5th, 6th, octave — you recognise by size and play as a string crossing and/or a finger jump; don't name both notes, know the interval and the target. A repeated note — one finger stays put, the bow does the work (Stage 5); read "that note, ×4," not four notes.
Try it
Try
Take Ode to Joy or Twinkle. Go through it once and label every bar with a shape name — "steps up," "steps down," "broken chord," "repeated note," "turn." Then play it thinking only the shape names. You'll find the whole tune is five or six shapes.
The usual mistake
Reading a sequence as if each repetition were new material — decoding "G A B G," then "A B c A," then "B c d B" from scratch. The point of a sequence is that after the first copy you stop reading the notes and just track the transposition. Same for a scale run: read "up," not eight notes.