Quotes About Reflection

the speed of the tongue should always be some seconds behind the speed of thought, but certainly not the other way around.

OvÅ¡em, je to jasné: chceme-li stanovit skute?nou hodnotu funkce, musíme ur?it její limitu. A je jasné, že limitou v?erejÅ¡ího hloupého "rozplynutí ve vesmíru" je smrt. Protože smrt je vlastnÄ› mé úplné rozplynutí ve vesmíru. Ozna?íme-li tedy lásku L a smrt S, bude L = f(S), tj. láska a smrt…

it is twenty-two-thirty. Till tomorrow, then. Record Four The Wild Man with a Barometer – Epilepsy – If * * * * * * * Until today everything in life seemed to me clear (that is why, I think, I always had a sort of partiality toward the word "clear"), but today...

A human being is made as absurdly as these preposterous "apartments"; human heads are opaque, with only tiny windows in them—the eyes.

Is it not clear then, that consciousness of oneself is a sickness?

viteza pe secunda a limbii trebuie sa fie intotdeauna ceva mai mica decat viteza pe secunda a gandirii, in nici un caz invers.

The speed of her tongue is not correctly calculated; the speed per second of her toungue should be slightly less than the speed per second of her thoughts -at any rate not the reverse.

A quiet fool is half a sage.

Bygone troubles are a pleasure to talk about.

Don't spit into the well--you might drink from it later.

When a people does not honour its past, it lives in a present of little substance and faces a future clouded in doubt.

When the dead departed, they took away any falsehoods that they might have allowed us to believe while alive; we who are left behind have to embark on a different life, since the dead are no longer here to help us deceive ourselves.

What a long way it is from one life to another, yet why write if not for that distance.

Don't boast because you know too little," Mrs. Pang says. "Things change a lot. Within a blink a mountain flattens and a river dries up. Nobody knows who he'll become tomorrow.

I never showed up in her dreams, I am certain, as people we keep in our memories rarely have a place for us in theirs.

It saddened her that Luo insisted on holding on to her as if they had started to share some vital organs during their twenty years of marriage. She wondered if this was a sign of old age, of losing hope and the courage for changes. She herself could easily picture vanishing from their shared life, but then perhaps it was a sign of aging on her part, a desire for loneliness that would eventually make death a relief.

she knew that in all stories she must be left out-the life she had made for herself was a life of flight, of discarding the inessential and the essential alike, making use of the stolen pieces and memories, retreating to the lost moments of other people's lives.

To kill time - an English phrase that still chills me: time can be killed but only by frivolous matters and purposeless activities. No one thinks of suicide as a courageous endeavor to kill time.

There is a difference between being remembered and being caught by the mesh of one's mind.

I wished that life could be reset, but reset from when?

Can a wall describe its own dimensions and texture, can a wall even sense its own existence, if not for the ball that constantly bounces off of it?

Reading Turgenev":

Our life, we realize, is not as happy as we have been taught to think.

When people talk about starting over, it's only wishful thinking: what came before, what happened yesterday, did not come or happen in vain.