Quotes About Reflection

Stacy Happy anniversary, Wayne. Wayne Stacy, we broke up two months ago. Stacy Well, that doesn't mean we can't still go out, does it Wayne Well, it does actually, that's what breaking up is.

In my view, life is divided into three parts. Youth is longing. Maturity is being. Old age is remembering.

The truths of the sea, like the truths of the soul, cannot be reduced to numbers.

Disciples and devotees…what are most of them doing? Worshipping the teapot instead of drinking the tea!

A myriad bubbles were floating on the surface of a stream. 'What are you?' I cried to them as they drifted by. 'I am a bubble, of course' nearly a myriad bubbles answered, and there was surprise and indignation in their voices as they passed. But, here and there, a lonely bubble answered, 'We are this stream', and there was neither surprise nor indignation in their voices, but just a quiet certitude.

The qualities we possess should never be a matter for satisfaction, but the qualities we have discarded.

she scrutinized Alesha's chrome dome. Great. She's captivated by the drops of sweat covering it. They're probably reflecting tiny rainbows all over the room. I'm a human disco ball, whee!

Burn, glare, old sun, so long unseen, That time may find its sound again, and cleanse Whatever it is that a wound remembers After the healing ends.

What is today? She'd lost track over the last few days. Pixii shrugged. First day after firing the kiln.

It's easy to look back and see it, and it's easy to give the advice. But the sad fact is, most people don't look beneath the surface until it's too late.

You can't dwell on what might have been...and it's not fair to condemn him for something he hasn't done.

The room fell quiet. And as I read down the list of over one hundred and fifty eight-grade boys, I realized that to me, there had only ever been one boy.

Sometimes I get so caught up in my own problems that I forget how amazing the world is.

My grandfather stood beside me and looked across the street, too. "No, Bryce," he said softly. "She's the same as she's always been; you're the one who's changed." He clapped his hand on my shoulder and whispered, "And son, from here on out, you'll never be the same again.

Poetry can be written only because it has been written.

I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief... For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

We are living even now among punishments and ruins.

We haven't accepted we can't really believe that the most characteristic product of our age of scientific miracles is junk, but that is so. And we still think and behave as though we face an unspoiled continent, with thousands of acres of living space for every man. We still sing "America the Beautiful" as though we had not created in it, by strenuous effort, at great expense, and with dauntless self-praise, an unprecedented ugliness.

Ask the questions that have no answers. Invest in the millenium.

Sit and be still until in the time of no rain you hear beneath the dry wind's commotion in the trees the sound of flowing water among the rocks, a stream unheard before, and you are where breathing is prayer.

A mind that has confronted ruin for years Is half or more a ruined mind.

Ask the world to reveal its quietude not the silence of machines when they are still, but the true quiet by which birdsongs, trees, bellworts, snails, clouds, storms become what they are, and are nothing else.

I come into the peace of wild thingswho do not tax their lives with forethoughtof grief.