Quotes About Self-discovery

I recognized him then; that is, I finally comprehended what I had known but had never been able to formulate: he had always been complete. He had finished the work of becoming himself, long before any of us could even imagine such a feat was possible.

Jasper Gwyn diceva che tutti siamo qualche pagina di un libro, ma di un libro che nessuno ha mai scritto e che invano cerchiamo negli scaffali della nostra mente.

Si muoveva come raccogliendo ogni volta pezzi di se stessa che non erano destinati a rimanere insieme. Il suo corpo sembrava il risultato di uno sforzo di volontà.

Avevano bisogno di trovare quel destino in se stessi: di dimostrare che una certa quale grandezza la possedevano senza bisogno che nessun altro gliela concedesse, né uomini, né re, né Dio.

E per un attimo le tornò quell'argentea sfrontatezza che aveva da giovane, quando sapeva di non essere né peggio né meglio di tanti altri, ma solamente diversa, in un modo prezioso e inevitabile. Era quando tutto le faceva paura, ma ancora non aveva paura di niente.

Chi avrebbe mai pagato per farsi smascherare da un pittore e per apprendere in casa quello che di se stesso si affannava a nascondere tutti i giorni?

Jasper Gwyn diceva che tutti siamo qualche pagina di un libro, ma di un libro che nessuno ha mai scritto e che invano cerchiamo negli scaffali della nostra mente. Mi disse che quello che cercava di fare era scrivere quel libro per la gente che andava da lui. Le pagine giuste.

Better? I went from holding her hand to hugging her. Lindy, you loved me when I wasn't even human. You kissed me when I had no lips. You saw what was deep down inside me when I wasn't even sure about it myself. Believe me, there's no way I could do better. I think you're perfect.

It was the first time the name had ever been spoken as this child's name, for Omoro's people felt that each human being should be the first to know who he was.

You're going to spend more time with yourself than with anyone else in your life. You want to spend that whole time fighting who you are?

She felt that she had revealed something to Cat, and with revealing something about oneself there always comes a sense of lightening of the load that we all carry; the load of being ourselves.

Inside every one of us, thought Mma Ramotswe, there is the child we once were, the child that was unsure about the world and our place in it.

It just did not make sense; unless, of course, as she had suggested, we all have a weak point, an area of intellectual or emotional vulnerability that may be quite out of keeping with out character.

as she made her way back to the tiny white van she listened to her own breathing and felt her own heart thumping wildly. She had no idea where she had found the courage, but it had been there, like the water at the bottom of a disused quarry--unfathomably deep.

However she redefined herself, that part of one that made for the core of the self, that part that we think of as the ultimate, inner being—that was ineradicable Scottish. That part spoke with a Scottish voice; that part looked out through Scottish eyes; and it was that part that now welled within her as she gazed out through the window of the descending plane and saw below her the rolling Borders hills…

We should all busy ourselves in being who we are, although many of us do not and spend so much time and energy being something else. We try to be what others want us to be, or what we ourselves want to be. And then we suddenly realise that our lives have shot past and we have not got round to being who we really

Unless we do something about the past, she thought, then it will weigh us down to such an extent that we simply cannot move. Is that what I want?

We should all busy ourselves in being who we are

like yearning to be a swan when you were demonstrably a bird of a different feather;

People had to be left to make their own mistakes, even if the rest of us could see quite clearly the dangers that lay ahead.

But you know who you are when you're on your own out there in all that emptiness. There's no past, no holding on to the scraps that are all you've got left. Everything is that minute, or maybe tomorrow, not yesterday.

How could a man know the truth of his own soul?

Our spiritual journey is always a journey inward. The outward journey in life is just to show you yourself as reflected in the faces and places you visit.

What provokes readers to experience their own profound sense of self?