Quotes About Contemplation

Everybody needs to take a little distance from things.

I could never take the idea of religion very seriously.

I usually wait for opportunities and act on them if I like them or I like to really think through any new ideas I have.

For those of us with an inward turn of mind, which is another name for melancholy introspection, the beginning of a new year inevitably leads to thoughts about both the future and the past.

Have you ever thought about those last moments of your life? Nobody wants a long, lingering illness; nobody wants just that; but it would be nice if you could have a day or two where you know it's coming.

The moon looks upon many night flowers; the night flowers see but one moon.

By night an atheist half believes in a God.

I am awake a lot of nights.

At Nintendo, we think deeply about everything.

I have no desire to look at myself.

There's a moment for everybody when you look at that picture of Jesus in the church and think, 'This doesn't totally make sense.' If God made everything, then who made God? We have no idea.

I really have no interest in myself.

I've got no problem being on my own. I like the way my imagination works.

The sun has come up and I am sitting by a window that is foggy with the breath of a life gone by.

Instead, he reflected on what she'd said earlier, about their similarities, thinking she was right and hoping that it was enough to keep her coming back to the ranch. After a while their conversation lapsed into a peaceful lull, and he realized he had no

La mayoría de la gente no sabe apreciar el silencio. Por eso siente la necesidad de hablar todo el rato.

Still, I have to admit that I

Even the creek is still. In the darkness it looks like empty space, and I find that I'm drawn to its mystery.

And now I'm back outside again sitting in the white plastic chair looking at the dew on the gas cap of my car. A fly wants to bit me on the ankle. The mosquitoes are all asleep. They're just not out at this hour. Only one biting fly. And a mourning dove, who blows through his thumbs to make that sound.

I'm burning a bunch of little pinecones now that I gathered on the walk. One of the joys of life, I think, is trying to decipher the name on a gravestone as it is transmitted through the dense foliage of blue-green gravestone lichen. Some people clean off the grave-growths with chemicals and wire brushes, a mistake.

Reading is itself a state of artificially enhanced loneliness.

One could argue that most of the trouble in the world is caused by introspection.

I'd stay there, or not, and I'd eat, or not, and I'd drink, or not, and go home, or not, and what I did or didn't do wouldn't matter to anyone at all. And I walked for most of the day. Do people get sad on holiday sometimes? I can imagine they do, having all that time to think.

So now what? What happens when words fail us?