Quotes About Contemplation

Mr. Carmichael, who was basking with his yellow cat's eyes ajar, so that like a cat's they seemed to reflect the branches moving or the clouds passing, but to give no inkling of any inner thoughts or emotion whatsoever, if he wanted anything.

Did it matter then, she asked herself, walking towards Bond Street, did it matter that she must inevitably cease completely; all this must go on without her; did she resent it; or did it not become consoling to believe that death ended absolutely?

What is the meaning of life? That was all—a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years.

The compensation of growing old, Peter Walsh thought, coming out of Regent's Park, and holding his hat in hand, was simply this; that the passions remain as strong as ever, but one has gained-at last! — the power which adds the supreme flavour to existence, — the power of taking hold of experience, of turning it round, slowly, in the light.

Love and religion! thought Clarissa, going back into the drawing-room, tingling all over. How detestable, how detestable they are!

Better is it', she thought, 'to be clothed with poverty and ignorance, which are the dark garments of the female sex; better to leave the rule and discipline of the world to others; better be quit of martial ambition, the love of power, and all the other manly desires if so one can more fully enjoy the most exalted raptures known to the humane spirit, which are', she said aloud, as her habit was when deeply moved, 'contemplation, solitude, love.

Deveria o dedo da morte ser posto, de tempos em tempos, sobre o tumulto da vida para evitar que ela nos esfacele? Seríamos feitos de tal forma que precisamos experimentar a morte em pequenas doses diárias para poder continuar exercendo o ofício de viver?

For now, she need not think about anybody. She could be herself, by herself. And that was what now she often felt the need of—to think; well, not even to think. To be silent; to be alone.

Quanh Ä'ây, nó nghÄ©, kh?a nh?ng ngón tay c?a nó trong lòng nÆ°á»›c, có má»™t con thuy?n Ä'ã b? ??m, nó th?m thì má»™t cách mÆ¡ màng, ná»­a mê ná»­a t?nh, chúng ta b? m?ng t?ng ng??i, Ä'Æ¡n Ä'á»™c bi?t bao.

They came there regularly every evening drawn by some need. It was as if the water floated off and set sailing thoughts which had grown stagnant on dry land, and gave to their bodies even some sort of physical relief. First, the pulse of colour flooded the bay with blue, and the heart expanded with it and the body swam, only the next instant to be checked and chilled by the prickly blackness on the ruffled waves.

She stood there: she listened. She heard the names of the stars.

It might be possible, Septimus thought, looking at England from the train window as they left Newhaven, it might be possible that the world itself is without meaning.

She was, on the contrary, inclined to be silent; she shrank from expressing herself even in talk, let alone in writing.

Tudo isso ele considerava, podia-se vê-lo a considerar, grisalho, obstinado, limpo, asseado, enquanto atravessava o parque para dizer à esposa que a amava. Pois ele iria dizer com todas as letras, quando entrasse na sala. Porque é uma pena enorme nunca dizer o que se sente.

The solitary traveller, haunter of lanes, disturber of ferns, and devastator of great hemlock plants, looking up, suddenly sees the giant figure at the end of the ride.

The contemplation of beauty, whether it be a uniquely tinted sunset, a radiant face, or a work of art, makes us glance back unwittingly at our personal past and juxtapose ourselves and our inner being with the utterly unattainable beauty revealed to us.

Solitude is the playfield of Satan.

Solitude was corrupting me.

It is a singular reaction, this sitting still and writing, writing, writing, or ruminating at length, which is much the same, really.

The evening is the time to praise the day

In reading, one should notice and fondle details.

Leave your incidental Dick.

No wonder tobacco shops have a predilection for corners, for

twirling in his fingers the mummy of a cigar