Quotes About Reflection

Life was good then, I though, as I started to cry. Not so much because I missed the good times, although I did. It was more that I knew I was turning into one of those girls who, upon looking at high school photos, feels wistful.

Although too much time has gone by to miss her, I feel regret that I didn't maintain our friendship. Even if we no longer have much in common, we would have always had the past, which, in some ways, is just as important as the present or future.

Because Marian was the love of my life. For a long time. And that's the kind of information you share when you're young and stupid and hoping that you're in something that is going to be even bigger and better than what you once lost. It's the kind of shit you waste your time thinking about. Lemme tell you -- it does no good.

Guys aren't so different from us, I think, which no matter how many times I think it will always seem like a remarkable revelation.

I know that the problem isn't the dream per se. It was the way I felt afterward, once awake.

Much later, she would go back and read the entry, and think to herself that memories were that way, too. When you wanted to forget, everything would return in raw, brutal focus. When you wanted to remember, the details would slip away like a dream at dawn.

I just think that I screwed up what could have turned into a more significant relationship, or at least a lasting friendship.

It's a metaphor for life. If sports don't matter, then life doesn't matter.

Time heals all wounds, particularly if you pack a bunch of stuff into that time.

Whenever I hear of someone else's tragedy, I do not dwell on the accident or diagnosis, or even the initial shock waves or aftermath of grief. Instead, I find myself reconstructing those final ordinary moments. Moments that make up our lives. Moments that were blissfully taken for granted--and that likely would have been forgotten altogether but for what followed. The before snapshots.

and more important, did he love me as much as he once loved me?

although the truth is, I'm not quite sure how I feel.

First of all, it's impossible not to compare. When you go down a fork in a road, it's impossible not to think about that other path. Wonder what your life could have been like…

He was just the wrong guy for me at the time. Nothing more, nothing less.

It's like when someone dies, the initial stages of grief seem to be the worst. But in some ways, it's sadder as time goes by and you consider how much they're missed in your life. In the world.

A big mistake. The kind of mistake that brews resentment and dangerous fissures. The kind of mistake that makes your heart ache. The kind of mistake that makes you long for another choice, the past, someone else.

Minigolf," she said with stone seriousness, "is a metaphor for life." I smiled and said, "Oh, really?" "Yes. I mean, think about it….Do you take it seriously? Too seriously? Do you enjoy it? Do you keep careful score? Do you get upset when you lose? Do you cheat? And if you do cheat, how do you react when you're busted? Are you sheepish? Sorry? Do you do it again?

Don't go giving this encounter any crazy meaning like you did with him the first time around. It doesn't mean a thing. Not a thing. Sometimes, in life, there is no meaning at all.

It's like when someone dies, the initial stages of grief seem to be the worst. But in some ways, it's sadder as time goes by and you consider how much they've missed in your life. In the world.

It was probably a function of getting older—I think we all become exaggerated versions of ourselves

Things are what they are and there's no point dwelling in the past or wondering what could have been.

Being around people didn't make me uneasy, I just preferred to be alone most of the time.

Although too much time has gone by to miss her, I feel regret that I didn't maintain our friendship. Even if we no longer have much in common, we would have always had the past, which, in some ways, is just as important as the present or future. It is where we come from, what makes us who we are.

That is one of the problems with getting older. There is a distinct lag time between how you see others and how you view yourself. I still thought of myself as looking twenty-four.