Quotes About Self

Sometimes poetry--words--give us a small, lovely look at ourselves. And sometimes that is enough.

Me agrada pensar que estoy, aunque sólo sea un poco, al mando de mi destino.

The ego breaks free of the soul, its matrix, in order to reflect soul, to make its potential actual, and eventually to be reunited with the realized soul to form the totality of the self.

The unconscious reflects back at us the face we show to it.

Somewhere in the last century, Western man suffered a catastrophic loss of faith—in himself, in his civilization, and in the faith that gave it birth.

Trust is restored when we learn to trust ourselves and build trust with others. There is no other way. By

the snapshot of yourself that you present to others must be compelling… or at least not negative.

The I is a concept that resists its own nullity as if life depended upon it.

The prism through which the world shows itself to me is mine.

The I is such that it can assert itself, absolve itself, undergo countless permutations.

Je n'étais vraiment moi–même qu'à l'instant où je m'enfuyais. Mes seuls bons souvenirs sont des souvenirs de fuite ou de fugue.

The letters dance before my eyes. Who am I?

rediscover the quality he possessed in

No era de verdad yo misma más que mientras escapaba.

We are the choices we make.

Without a filter, a man is just chaos walking.

You know that your truth, the one that you hide… is the thing you are most afraid of.

Except I didn't say eff

This is who you are, do you see?" Tomasz continues.

It does not matter what you think, the monster said, because you mind will contradict itself a hundred times each day.

What are you?" Conor asked, pulling his arms closer around himself. I am not a "what," frowned the monster. I am a "who." "Who are you, then?" Conor said. The monster's eyes widened. Who am I? it said, its voice getting louder. Who am I? The

I can't tell you what's real for you. But in return, you can't say what's real for me either. I get to choose. Not you.

You are what you remember. You are what you hold on to.

What if, on some level, way down deep inside, right down to the very simplest, purified form of who he was, what if he was corrupted? What if there was some tiny, tiny fault in the first building blocks of who he was, and everything since that moment of life was just papering over an essential crack? And he was just a carapace built on a facade built on scaffolding and there was no real core to him, no real central worth? At all?