Quotes About Self

This is a poem about death, about the heart blanching in its fold of shadows because it knows someday it will be the fish and the wave and no longer itself— it will be those white wings, flying in and out of the darkness but not knowing it— this is a poem about loving the world and everything in it: the self, the perpetual muscle, the passage in and out, the bristling swing of the sea.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.

If it is...not just one's own accomplishment that carries one from this green and mortal world--that lifts the latch and gives a glimpse into a greater paradise--then perhaps one has the sensibility: a gratitude apart from authorship, a fervor and desire beyond the margins of the self.

The point is, you're you, and that's for keeps.

how wonderful to be who I am, made out of earth and water, my own thoughts, my own fingerprints—

I wanted to know, whoever I was, I was alive for a little while.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination

determined to do the only thing you could do — determined to save the only life you could save.

Certainly there is within each of us a self that is neither a child, nor a servant of the hours. It is a third self, occasional in some of us, tyrant in others. This self is out of love with the ordinary; it is out of love with time. It has a hunger for eternity.

I feel exquisite pleasure in dwelling on the recollections of childhood, before misfortune had tainted my mind, and changed its bright visions of extensive usefulness into gloomy and narrow reflections upon self.

Who was I? What was I? Whence did I come?

I cannot tell you how I loathe talking about myself.

to forget myself and my ephemeral, because human, sorrows.

Happiness changes as you change. It's in yourself.

misfortune had tainted my mind and changed its bright visions of extensive usefulness into gloomy and narrow reflections upon self.

I feel pleasure in dwelling on the recollections of childhood, before misfortune had tainted my mind, and changed its bright visions of extensive usefulness into gloomy and narrow reflections upon self.

Was my dream but a mirror of the truth?

One secret which I alone possessed was the hope to which I had dedicated myself.

The heart that loves the wicked ego creates the hated enemy.

Don't sacrifice yourself for me. I will not be grateful.

Confidence is not some nonphysical quality snatched from the spiritual dimension and installed in the mind. It is the feeling that arises when the body's knowledge of itself is in harmony with a person's dreams.

The only limitations for your life are the limiting beliefs in your mind. —Matt Morris

É claro que não há um único gene, mas há algo infinitamente mais enaltecedor e magnífico: toda uma naturza humana, flexivelmente pré-ordenada em nossos cromossomos e indiossincrática de cada um de nós. Todo mundo tem uma única e distina natureza endógena. Um self.

Life is about love. It's about whom you love and whom you hurt. Life's about how you love yourself and how you hurt yourself. Life's about how you love and hurt the people close to you. Life is about how you love and hurt the people who just cross your path for a moment. Life is about love.