Quotes About Reflection

But as much as I tried, I couldn't forget my past. The events that had shaped me continued to weigh on my soul.

Far beyond the trees, the sun peeked its carroty face over the dark blue water, sweeping away the silvery darkness.

Instead of relishing life, people merely existed. Such was the case with my family.

For the remainder of her days, my grandmother lay in bed, staring past the window into space. It was if a part of her mind had died before her body had time to give up.

What happened to you, boy? Miss the boat to Heaven, so you stop to visit Hell instead?

Personally, I do not lack the courage to think a thought whole.

La vita può essere capita solo all'indietro, ma va vissuta in avanti.

The thought of death gives the earnest person the right momentum in life and the right goal toward which he directs his momentum

Gustavo Solivellas dice: Nuestra vida siempre expresa el resultado de nuestros pensamientos dominantes (Søren Kierkegaard)

If this had not been the case with Abraham, then perhaps he might have loved God but not believed; for he who loves God without faith reflects upon himself, he who loves God believingly reflects upon God.

Not even a suicide these days does away with himself in desperation but deliberates on this step so long and so sensibly that he is strangled by calculation, making it a moot point whether or not he can really be called a suicide, inasmuch as it was in fact the deliberating that took his life. A premeditated suicide he was not, but rather a suicide by means of premeditation.

Maybe you're one of those people who writes poems, but rarely reads them. Let me put this as delicately as I can: If you don't read, your writing is going to suck.

God doesn't act like the Church. No, instead, the Church must act like God.

The challenges in this place are real and sometimes very difficult, but I've learned to slow down and look for beauty in my days, for the mysteries and blessings woven into everything, into the very words we speak.

Norah looked at her son's tiny face, surprised, as always, by his name. he had not grown into it yet, he still wore it like a wrist band, something that might easily slip off and disappear. She had read about people – where? she could not remember this either – who refused to name their children for several weeks, feeling them to be not yet of the earth, suspended still between two worlds.

The place was a familiar as breath but as far from his life now as the moon.

She saw herself moving through another life, an exotic, difficult, satisfying life.

He had handed his daughter to Caroline Gill and that act had led him here, years later, to this girl in motion of her own, this girl who had decided yes, a brief moment of release in the back of a car, in the room of a silent house, this girl who had stood up later, adjusting her clothes, with now knowledge of how that moment was already shaping her life.

For this is what I have learned, in my short life: do not act out of anger. Act from love or not at all. I have seen it, how anger makes a space for what I must call evil.

Rows and rows of books lined the shelves...full of ideas and images, worlds imagined, worlds perceived; full of fingerprints and sudden laughter and the sighs of readers...

You couldn't blame him, no, you couldn't fault him for wanting to go deeper into every fleeting moment, to study its mystery.

she had only made things worse. His angry eyes met hers in the mirror, and she remembered his soft plump infant hand pressed against her cheek, his laughter trilling through the rooms. Another boy altogether, that child. Where had he gone?

It's always like this after a few days here. I start to lose my bearings. The surface is one way, but then there are all these other things going on, sometimes going back decades, swirling undercurrents that I just don't understand. [p. 336]

I wondered if I could call my experience in the chapel prayer--not a long list of asking, after all, or a rote string of words, but rather a kind of sacred listening. [p, 355]