Quotes About Self

Save his own soul he hath no star.

Save his own soul's light overhead, None leads him, and none ever led, Across birth's hidden harbour-bar, Past youth where shoreward shallows are, Through age that drives on toward the red Vast void of sunset hailed from far, To the equal waters of the dead; Save his own soul he hath no star, And sinks, except his own soul guide, Helmless in middle turn of tide.

You (humans) think that you are insignificant, while there is a great universe contained in you.

The proper word for me," Robin Goodman says, "is me.

You never stop being yourself on the inside, whatever age people think you are by looking at you from the outside.

Imagine if you made something and then you always had to be seen through what you'd made, as if the thing you'd made became you.

Regrets when you're dead? A past when you're dead? Is there never any escaping the junkyard of the self?

You've got to use every moment. Because in the blink of an eye it's past you, and you never get your time again. Forgive me, Grace, Charlotte said smiling, but I think that's rubbish. I believe we meet our times with our full and ready selves at whatever ages we are when the times happen to us. That's what it's all about.

But we didn't fit, he and I. He thought it was because he was too old. He was older, and compared to the age I was I did think he was ancient. He was in his sixties then. Well, now I know that your sixties feel the same as all the other ages, and your seventies. You never stop being yourself on the inside, whatever age people think you are by looking at you from the outside.

Looking in the mirror suddenly she thinks that we all know our dates of birth but that every year there is another date that we pass over without knowing what it is but it is just as important it is the other date the death date.

Seems the self you get left with on the shore, in the end, is the self that you were when you went.

She stops to make a note on her phone: abandon and presence, she writes. It's the first time she's felt like herself for quite some time.

Regrets when you're dead? A past when you're dead? Is there never any escaping the junkshop of the self?

I penetrated to the heart of the forest, he says, sacrificed myself, and brought back—you. He

It's on my head, Elisabeth says. That's where it grows. And my face is also attached to my head.

But imagine if you made something and then you always had to be seen through what you'd made, as if the thing you'd made became you.

Je houdt nooit op jezelf te zijn vanbinnen, hoe oud mensen ook denken dat je bent als ze vanbuiten naar je kijken.

Life is yours... Claim it...!

you know, one never realises how much one has changed with the years. We carry an inward image of ourselves, I think, which remains forever the same.

You just let your lower self go, and then it takes on all these aspects of the society - the city with horns blowing, the people yelling things at each other, and the all-in-all violence and chaos of the city. Put that on stage with music, and that's what this is.

When will women begin to have the first glimmer that above all other loyalties is the loyalty to Truth, i.e., to yourself, that husband, children, friends and country are as nothing to that?

We're the result of the choices we make everyday, and this is my choice.

Depression as Denial of the Self Depression consists of a denial of one's own emotional reactions. This denial begins in the service of an absolutely essential adaptation during childhood and indicates a very early injury. There are many children who have not been free, right from the beginning, to experience the very simplest of feelings, such as discontent, anger, rage, pain, even hunger—and, of course, enjoyment of their own bodies.

I can't translate myself into language any more.