Quotes About Reflection

Oh, it's a terrible, cruel thing—first you're young, and that takes up such a long time you think it's forever, then suddenly you're not young, and you never get used to it—and, oh dear, there's just the one way out.

As if whoever it was held that camera was her closest friend. Or maybe it was the camera that was her closest friend.

In that way you recall, suddenly, sharply, in daylight, a trace of a dream of the previous night--but even as you recall it, it begins to fade.

Alone,alone! It is a fact, you hear more acutely and you see and think most acutely,when you are alone. Alone, alone! But there is happiness in alone, if you believe you have chosen it.

Then the noise faded and Legs squinted up at the sky, the moon so bright you'd never think it could be merely rock like the earth's common rock and lifeless, merely reflected light from an invisible sun and not a powerful living light of its own...

Impossible not to imagine the dead observing us. Our love for them a soft, shimmering gossamar that trails behind us.

You love the life you've lived because it is yours.

This is my life now. Absurd, but unpredictable. Not absurd because unpredictable but unpredictable because absurd. If I have lost the meaning of my life, I might still find small treasured things among the spilled and pilfered trash.

Maybe all there is is just the next thing maybe all there is is just the next thing maybe all there is is just just the next just the next thing maybe all there is is just the next maybe all there is is is just is just the next thing Roslyn's words stuck in her head & she could not stop repeating them Maybe all there is is just the next thing like a Hindu mantra & she was a yogin murmuring her secret prayer Maybe all there is just the next thing She thought, That's a comfort!

It's where we go, and what we do when we get there, that tells us who we really are.

In marriage, the most intense conversations are often with oneself.

Great handfuls of her life were being stolen from her and she would never be able to retrieve them.

How strange it is, to be walking away. Is it possible that I am really going to leave Ray—here? Is it possible that he won't be coming home with me in another day or two, as we'd planned? Such a thought is too profound for me to grasp. It's like fitting a large unwieldy object in a small space. My brain hurts, trying to contain it.

We begin as children imagining and fearing ghosts. By degrees, through our long lives, we come to be the very ghosts inhabiting the lost landscapes of our childhood.

Recently she had been going through a period of adolescent melancholia, often talking with her mother, a nurse, about death. She would, she hoped, be some day reincarnated as a cat.

But you are a solace just by existing, vividly in my thoughts if not here before me.

Thinking of such things like they'd happened years ago already and not just a few weeks back. For once life begins to accelerate it goes faster and faster.

The innocence of such children doesn't answer our deepest questions about this vale of tears to which we are condemned, but it helps to dispel them. That is the secret to family life.

If I could open a vein. Not to inject any shit, I will never weaken like that again, but just to feel the kick of it, the old memory. So this numbness lifts. So I could get back there easier.

For the widow inhabits a tale not of her own telling.

First marriage, and nothing so sweet! You don't know it at the time.

It struck her to the heart, left her weak, disoriented, that, to Michael Mulvaney, after all, his family wasn't quite enough.

Like the silence that surrounds the tolling of the bell allows you to hear the bell.

As long as you're in motion, your perspective is obscured. Only when you reach the summit and turn to look back, can you be at peace.