Quotes About Reflection

Books were only one type of receptacle where we stored a lot of things we were afraid we might forget. There is nothing magical in them at all. The magic is only in what books say. -Faber

for he remembered last week and the two white stones staring up at the ceiling and the pump-snake with the probing eye and the two soap faced men with the cigarettes moving in their mouths when they talked.

No necesitamos que nos dejen tranquilos. De cuando en cuando, precisamos estar seriamente preocupados.

I learned long ago that I am not seeing directly, that my subconscious is doing most of the "sponging" and it will be years before any usable impressions surface.

I rarely watch the 'parlor walls' or go to races or Fun parks. So I've lots of time for crazy thoughts, I guess.

Hepimiz aptal?z, dedi Clemens, hem de her zaman. Sadece her gün farkl? türden aptal?z. San?yoruz ki bugün aptal deÄŸiliz, dersimizi ald?k. Dün aptald?m ama bu sabah deÄŸilim. Ertesi gün anl?yoruz ki, evet, o gün de aptald?k...

Asl?nda arada s?rada rahats?z edilmemiz gerek.

When you want to do a thing badly enough you lie to yourself. You say the other people are all wrong. Well, soon after I started killing people I realized they were just fools and I shouldn't be killing them. But it was too late. I couldn't go on with it then, so I came up here where I could lie to myself some more and get angry, to build it all up again.

Gardening is the handiest excuse for being a philosopher. Nobody guesses, nobody accuses, nobody knows, but there you are, Plato in the peonies, Socrates force-growing his own hemlock.

And when he died, I suddenly realized I wasn't crying for him at all, but for all the things he did. I was crying because he would never do them again...

Sometimes I drive all night and come back and you don't know it. It's fun out in the country. You hit rabbits, sometimes you hit dogs.

Some day the load we're carrying with us may help someone. But even when we had the books on hand, a long time ago, we didn't use what we got out of them. We went right on insulting the dead. We went right on spitting in the graves of all the poor ones who died before us.

Why,' said Montag slowly, 'we've stopped in front of my house.

He floated on his back when the valise filled and sank; the river was mild and leisurely, going away from the people who ate shadows for breakfast and steam for lunch and vapors for supper. The river was very real; it held him comfortably and gave him the time at last, the leisure, to consider this month, this year, and a lifetime of years. He listened to his heart slow. His thoughts stopped rushing with his blood.

Los libros nos recuerdan que somos asnos y tontos. Son la guardia pretoriana del César, que murmura mientras los desfiles pasan ruidosamente por las avenidas Recuerda, César, que eres mortal

I remember. Montag clung to the earth. I remember. Chicago. Chicago, a long time ago. Millie and I. That's where we met! I remember now. Chicago. A long time ago.

A little learning is a dangerous thing. Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring; There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain, and drinking largely sobers us again.' Pope.

Let you alone! That's all very well, but how can I leave myself alone ? We need not to be let alone. We need to be really bothered once in a while. How long is it since you were really bothered? About something important, about something real?

Last night I've thought about all that kerosene I've used in the past 10 years, and I thought about books. And for the first time, I realized that a man was behind each one of the books. A man had to think them up. A man had to take a long time to put them down on paper, and I'd never even thought that thought before. It took some man a lifetime maybe to put some of his thoughts down, looking around at the world and life. And then I come walking in and BOOM, it's all over.

But no man's a hero to himself

Quando morì, io mi accorsi ad un tratto che non piangevo per lui, ma per tutte le cose che aveva fatto.

When it is a long damp November in my soul, and I think too much and perceive too little, I know it is high time to get back to that boy with the tennis shoes, the high fevers, the multitudinous joys, and the terrible nightmares.

Night after night for every year and every year, for no reason at all, the woman comes out and looks at the sky, her hands up, for a long moment, looking at the green burning of Earth, not knowing why she looks, and then she goes back and throws a stick on the fire, and the wind comes up and the dead sea goes on being dead.

Yaln?zl?k gözlerin kapanmas?yd?. Ä°nanç da yaln?zca aç?lmas?.