Quotes About Self-awareness

Of course people are going to compare me to my father, and there's no problem with that. At the end of the day, I'm going to have to live with that for the rest of my life, whether I like it or not.

I have no problems with failures, I'm afraid of failing within myself. At times when I know I did something wrong, I don't sleep that night. I'm scared of facing myself.

From the outside, my life seemed charmed, and I would say as much to anyone who asked. And yet deep down, part of me would also have known that I was lying.

The silence depressed me. It wasn't the silence of silence. It was my own silence.

Mi limito a dire alle persone quello che già sanno, ma hanno paura di ammettere con sé stesse.

But wisdom means more than being intelligent, because it encompasses understanding, empathy, experience, inner peace, and intuition, and in retrospect, I obviously lack many of those traits.

Still, I have to admit that I

I'm not proud of who I was back then, but I also know it's impossible to change the past.

Aside from these infrequent outbursts he possesses the gentle demeanor that sometimes trails the newly sober, that deep acceptance that comes with realizing how badly you'd fucked up your life.

And though he knew it was only the whiskey talking, he also knew that the whiskey talked daily.

IN Incognito the neuroscientist David Eagleman proposes that we are unknown to ourselves: Most of what we do and think and feel is not under our conscious control.

How am I doing? He nods. I smile and turn the question over in my mind. I begin to point out that it isn't really the right question, but start to laugh before I can finish, and keep on laughing, a laughter that builds on it self. How am I doing? he might as well ask, Would you like more pebbles in your shoes, or Besides that, Mrs. Lincoln, how'd you like the play?

I wondered just how much of her I'd invented. Had I only mastered some skill for awing myself? Or would this creature, Camilla, like a settler's incessant New World, keep increasing my capacity not only to marvel but to marvel at myself in the face of her?

I've been thinking with my guts since I was fourteen years old, and frankly speaking, between you and me, I have come to the conclusion that my guts have shit for brains.

Asking the head I have now to explain its own thinking is as pointless as dialing your own telephone number on your own telephone: Either way, you get an engaged signal. Or your own answer message, if you have that kind of phone system.

I'm not the smartest guy in the world, but I'm certainly not the dumbest. I mean, I've read books like The Unbearable Lightness of Being and Love in the Time of Cholera, and I think I've understood them. They're about girls, right? Just kidding. But I have to say my all-time favorite book is Johnny Cash's autobiography Cash by Johnny Cash.

I want to be a well-rounded human being with none of these knotty lumps of rage and guilt and self-disgust.

I'm still pretty sick about what I've lost, but I only admit it to myself late at night, which is probably why I'm not the best sleeper.

He wasn't Ringo, though. He was more like Paul. Maureen was Ringo, except she wasn't very funny. I was George, except I wasn't shy, or spiritual. Martin was John, except he wasn't talented or cool. Thinking about it, maybe we were more like another group with four people in it.

When I'm arguing with St. Peter at the Pearly Gates, I'm going to tell him to ignore the Books Read column, and focus on the Books Bought instead. This is *really* who I am, I'll tell him.

So there we have it. I get up in the morning determined to do something approximating to the right thing, and with in two hours find something to feel guilty about.

Just because it's a relationship, and it's based on soppy stuff, it doesn't mean you can't make intellectual decisions about it. Sometimes you just have to, otherwise you'll never get anywhere. That's where I've been going wrong. I've been letting the weather and my stomach muscles and a great chord change in a Pretenders single make up my mind for me, and I want to do it for myself.

How had I managed to edit all this out in the intervening years? How had I managed to turn her into the answer to all the world's problems?

When they – I cannot bring myself to use the first-person plural in this instance.