Quotes About Self-awareness

Bu akÅŸam, birdenbire kendimi biraz zavall? hissettim. Sonra geçti.

Ces émotions inoffensives je ne les ai jamais refusées; au contraire. Pour les ressentir il suffit d'être un tout petit peu seul, juste assez pour se débarrasser au bon moment de la vraisemblance.

Tal vez sea imposible comprender el propio rostro. ¿O acaso es porque soy un hombre solo? Los que viven en sociedad han aprendido a mirarse en los espejos, tal como los ven sus amigos. Yo no tengo amigos; ¿por eso es mi carne tan desnuda? Sí, es como la naturaleza sin los hombres.

I said to myself: Perhaps there is nothing in the world I cling to as much as this feeling of adventure; but it comes when it pleases; it is gone so quickly and how empty I am once it has left. Does it, ironically, pay me these short visits in order to show me that I have wasted my life?

Shall I awake in a few months, a few years, exhausted, disappointed, in the midst of fresh ruins? I should like to understand myself properly before it is too late.

qui suis-je, sinon la peur que les autres ont de moi ?

L'angoisse commence pour un homme et le délaissement et les sueurs de sang, quand il ne peut plus avoir d'autre témoin que lui-même.

It is your show. It is your universe. There is no one else here, just you, and nothing is being withheld from you. You are completely on your own. Everything is available for direct knowing. No one else has anything you need. No one else can lead you, pull you, push you or carry you.

Wake up first. Wake up, and then you can double back and perhaps be of some use to others if you still have the urge. Wake up first, with pure and unapologetic selfishness, or you're just another shipwreck victim floundering in the ocean and all the compassion in the world is of absolutely no use to the other victims floundering around you.

It's ego – the false self – that exalts the guru and declares the teaching sacred, but nothing is exalted or sacred, only true or not true.

understanding cannot be measured by external behavior

Since I am not actually a real human being, my emotional responses are generally limited to what I have learned to fake.

It's always me, isn't it? I'm not really a very nice person, but for some reason it's always me that they come to with their problems.Oh, Dexter, a savage inhuman monster has taken my boyfriend! Well damn it, I'm a savage inhuman monster, too—didn't that entitle me to some rest?

Nothing else loves me, nor ever will. Not even - especially - me. I know what I am and that's not a thing to love.

I was good at being charming, one of my very few vanities.

A man can take only so much. Even a phony man like me.

Something it's reassuring to know I'm not the only one pretending to be normal.

Because no matter how far you may travel, you are what you are, and even when you are flying at thrilling new heights, circling the sun and thinking you belong in the halo of that perfect golden light, you do not. The wings always melt, and you always crash-land in your same old self.

Steady, Dexter, I thought. This is just a small, painful reminder of who you are and where you came from, brought on by stress. It has nothing to do with operatic cattle.

But why?" I said. And because I like to give as good as I get, I added, "Don't you like who you are?" The

So I sat for a few more minutes, trying to think, and realizing only that I was still not as good at it as I used to be. Maybe I never really was. I'd probably just been stumbling along wrapped in a cloud of ignorant luck, unaware that there was a huge storm of Retribution trailing along behind me. It had caught up to me at last, and I wasn't going to think myself out of it.

At least you can be grateful," Brian said, "that I am not the type who insists on saying, told you so." "Didn't you just say it?" I asked him. "Nobody's perfect," he said, and put the car in gear. "What now?

I suppose that anyone with even a little bit of self-awareness will eventually feel like a complete hypocrite in the company of children, and this was my time.

Nothing else loves me, or ever will. Not even—especially—me. I know what I am and that is not a thing to love.