Quotes About Self

No creo en nada y eso me hace más fuerte de lo que piensas

Nos descubrimos en nuestras pasiones y nuestros fracasos, pero también en nuestro reposo y en nuestros sueños.

Was he for the world or for me?

And I saw that if I were to maximize every experience available to me, I must exert my own powers over my learning.

I'm in love with you," I responded. He laughed the most beguiling and gentle laugh. "Of course you are," he replied. "I understand perfectly because I'm in love with myself. The fact that I'm not transfixed in front of the nearest mirror takes a great deal of self-control

Is this the only question you bring to me, is this the only power that obsesses you, so that you must make us gods and devils yourself when the only power that exists is inside ourselves?

Soy demasiado esclavo de mis propias obsesiones y de mi propia fascinación.

Dicen que ninguno de nosotros cambia realmente con el paso del tiempo, que sólo nos volvemos más como somos.

It's a lie that I hold him high in my affections. My life is full of such lies.

Call me Ramses the Damned. For that is the name I have given myself. But I was once Ramses the Great of Upper and Lower Egypt, slayer of the Hittites, father of many sons and daughters, who ruled Egypt for sixty-four years.

If we had been any different, would they have loved us?

Oh, weren't human beings self-deluding!

I discovered myself and the world, and forgot them, and discovered them again

The world did not have me in mind; it had no mind. It was a coincidental collection of things and people, of items, an I myself was one such item...the things in the world did not necessarily cause my overwhelming feelings; the feelings were inside me, beneath my skin, behind my ribs, withing my skull. They were even, to some extent, under my control.

If you ask a twenty-one-year-old poet whose poetry he likes, he might say, unblushing, Nobody's, In his youth, he has not yet understood that poets like poetry, and novelists like novels; he himself likes only the role, the thought of himself in a hat.

I woke in bits, like all children, piecemeal over the years. I discovered myself and the world, and forgot them, and discovered them again.

The interior life is often stupid. Its egoism blinds it and deafens it; its imagination spins out ignorant tales, fascinated. It fancies that the western wind blows on the Self, and leaves fall at the feet of the Self for a reason, and people are watching. A mind risks real ignorance for the sometimes paltry prize of an imagination enriched. The trick of reason is to get the imagination to seize the actual world—if only from time to time.

Am I living?'...I forgot myself, and sank into dim and watery oblivion.

The interior life is often stupid.

My whole life, I always thought that I was the only impostor. That everyone else was certain they were real in some way that I could never understand. But what if they're all just faking too? Maybe none of us know who we really are.

Wisdom tells me I'm nothing. But love tells me I'm everything.

the things we write, they aren't always really us.

Maybe none of us know who we really are.

Not just your face was changed by the knife. Your personality— the real you inside— was the price of beauty.