Quotes About Reflection

How much there is in art that is beautiful, if only one can remember what one has seen, one is never empty or truly lonely, and never alone. -Vincent Van Gogh

Who a person becomes later in life, how he lives, how he dies, cloud's people's memories of him, spinning and skewing-distorting-their portraits of him as a child. But we will draw Vincent as clearly as we can using not only impressions but also strong lines, sharp details. A picture will emerge.

It is feeling and not reasoning that drives one to prayer.' -Emma to Charles

As summer turns to fall, Vincent, at twenty-six, is alone.

How much there is in art that is beautiful, if only one can remember what one has seen, one is never empty or truly lonely, and never alone.

I know you're fond of brooding, but I'm an old man. Your silences make me wonder whether I've actually gone deaf.

To learn from the past, understand the present, and change the future," David said.

You may always feel regret over what happened that night, Bertie. But that doesn't mean you can't move on with your life. You were brave tonight," said Warden Ita. "But it takes a different kind of bravery to talk to the ones we love, ask forgiveness, and move on. Sometimes all we can do is take one step at a time.

I love Black Beauty, but it's just a story, of course. What matters is. . . I don't know. . . what you do once the story is inside you.

But if there's one thing I've found in all my muddled wanderings, it's that we learn from our misfortunes just as much as from the good things that happen to us.

stop dwelling on it? If you think about it day

I confess that I am often lost in all the dimensions of time, that the past sometimes feels nearer than the present and I often fear the future has already happened.

As much as I try to make the past keep still and mind its manners, it moves and murmurs with me through every day.

I have never got a grip on when the past begins or where it ends, but if cities map the past with statues made from bronze forever frozen in one dignified position, as much as I try to make the past keep still and mind its manners, it moves and murmurs with me through every day.

This was the rearranged space of yesterday.

Time has shattered, it's cracked like my lips.

That night, in the deep heat of Greece, devoured by mosquitoes and reminiscences, I was thinking about all the doors I had closed in my life and what it would have taken to keep them ajar.

Her taste for symmetry and structure, it helped her thoughts drift. Symmetry did not chain her, it set her free. (p. 85)

It seemed that acquiring a house was not the same thing as acquiring a home. And connected to home was a question I swatted away every time it landed too near me. Who else was living with me in the grand old house with the pomegranate tree? Was I alone with the melancholy fountain for company? No. There was definitely someone else there with me, perhaps even cooling their feet in that fountain. Who was this person? A phantom.

Has anyone ever actually told you how up yourself you are?

she had gone too far into the unhappiness of the world to start all over again.

I wanted my whole life so far to slip away with the rolling waves, to begin a different kind of life. But I didn't know what that meant or how to get to it

Now that we were mothers we were all shadows of our former selves, chased by the women we used to be before we had children.

My mother's words are my mirror. My laptop is my veil of shame. I hide in it all the time.