Quotes About Self-awareness

Do I love him? Yes. Is he perfect? No. Am I? No. Will I leave him? No. Okay, that's resolved. Time for a nap.

I hate sentences that begin with my name followed by the claim—indubitably erroneous—that the speaker knows something about me. Those kinds of sentences rank right up there with the ones that begin with You know what your problem is? That's always a doozy. Talk about a trick question. Nothing worth hearing ever follows that preface.

I'll be a straitjacketed bookworm burrowed into the binding of an insane, homicidal book, staring helplessly out from the pages of my own life, as they're writ by someone else, and I'd commit atrocities that would damn a saint's soul.

I know who the fuck you are," he clips the words out coldly. "You're the only one that doesn't. Dani could have anticipated the Hag's movements. You could not. Jada.

Best way to stay out from under a microscope is to keep turning it around on the person trying to view you through it.

That's why I remember every single thing I've done, stare at myself in a mirror and meet those eyes that have screwed up, fully aware of my failings, because the day I let myself forget them is the day I could start doing them all over again.

I was pissed-off walking. Or rather pissed-off sitting, tangled in crimson silk sheets that smelled like somebody'd been having a sexathon. That would be me. And that made me even madder.

If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle. —Sun Tzu, The Art of War

The heart has its own mind, measures its own time, and if it consults with the brain, doesn't always heed the advice. My brain was screaming—stop hurting already. To a deaf audience.

It's not my fault who I am. The only thing that's my fault is what I choose to do with it.

Don't lose yourself in anger, Mac. It's gasoline. You can burn it as fuel, or you can use it to torch everything you care about and end up standing on a scorched battlefield, with everybody dead, even you—only your body doesn't have the good grace to quit breathing.

Problem is, I want to make breaking up Jo and Ryodan number one on my list, which is stupid because there's nothing but personal satisfaction I'd gain from it, and while I'm all about personal satisfaction, I'm beginning to see a pattern: jumping on the short-term-gratification train always seems to wreck me off the rails somehow.

I despised the world because I used to know who I was, and I used to be good, with no bad in me, or at least that's what I thought and there really is a degree of bliss and charmed innocence in ignorance.

And there, my dear Fio, you make one of Womankind's greatest mistakes: falling in love with a man's potential. We so rarely share the same view of it, and even more rarely care to achieve it. Stop pining for the man you think I could be—and take a good, long, hard look at the one I am.

I just go with it, focus on whichever feeling I have most often and try to keep my mouth shut when it's the other. But most folks got Id and Ego living on different floors in their head's house, in different rooms, and they've locked all the doors between them, and nailed sheets of plywood over that, because they think they're, like, sworn enemies that can't hang together.

Now that I'm a little over the edge anyway, I can admit something: My whole life, I've secretly been afraid that beneath my fiercely focused grooming and accessorizing, I'm, well Ã¢â'¬Â¦ psychotic.

I can wedge my head far enough down into the sand that I can't see whatever's staring at me, then it can't see me, either, and no matter how people try to dispute it, perception is reality. It's what you choose to believe that makes you the person you are.

There are some lines you just can't let another person cross. They don't always make sense, they might not always seem like the most important things, but only you can know what they are, and when you butt up against one, you have to defend it.

Kim olduÄŸumu öÄŸrendiÄŸin zaman, erkeÄŸin olmama izin ver.

The world ferrets out your faults often enough, I see little point in lending a hand.

I want to keep her from ever changing into something so terrible as I've become.

Deep feelings indeed, Circenn thought morosely. Deep disgust with myself.

I want to keep her from ever changing into something so terrible as I've become. I want to shelter her from the hard truth that life takes from you, whittles away at your hope and scrapes the flesh from your bone and leaves you so changed you can't even recognize yourself in the mirror anymore.

Why are you so pissed at me? It's not my fault who I am. The only thing that's my fault is what I choose to do with it.