Quotes About Reflection

Most of us have only one story to tell. I don't mean that only one thing happens to us in our lives: there are countless events, which we turn into countless stories. But there's only one that matters, only one finally worth telling. This is mine.

This intrigued me much more. Simple, plangent words. What had I said about the voyeur inside me?

I think that in life you have to discover what you're good at, recognise what you can't do, decide what you want, aim for it, and try not to regret things afterwards.

Don't think ill of me, remember me well. Tell people you were fond of me, that you loved me, that I wasn't a bad guy. Even if, perhaps, none of this was the case.

now some were keeping themselves at bay, having reached the age when illness arrives. There were emails about prostate cancer, and back operations, and that little bit of heart trouble which maybe wasn't such good news. Vitamin pills and statins were consumed, while the World Service kept them company in their sleeplessness. And soon, no doubt, the funeral years would begin.

Which are truer, the happy memories, or the unhappy ones? He decided, eventually, that the question was unanswerable.

This last isn't something I actually saw, but what you end up remembering isn't always the same as what you have witnessed.

Treba paziti kuda se ide samo ako se želi vratiti tamo odakle se pošlo,...

time's many paradoxes. For instance: that when we are young and sensitive, we are also at our most hurtful; whereas when the blood begins to slow, when we feel less sharply, when we are more armoured and have learnt how to bear hurt, we tread more carefully.

Jenže vzpomínky, které nám nakonec z?stanou, se pÃ…â"¢ece pokaždé neshodují s tím, co jsme vidÄ›li na vlastní o?i.

And then there is the inevitable third stylisation—of posthumous memory. Leading to the moment when the last living person to remember you has their very last thought about you. There ought to be a name for that final event, which marks your final extinction.

an?msanan hazlar kadar, an?msanan ac?lar konusunda da nostaljik olmak mümkün

Qué vanidad tan curiosa es la que impulsa al presente a esperar que el pasado se amamante de él.

khi ta tr? và nh?y c?m, cÅ©ng là lúc ta hay Ä'i gieo Ä'au Ä'á»›n nh?t

I don't envy the young. In my days of adolescent rage and insolence, I would ask myself: What are the old for, if not to envy the young? That seemed to me their principal and final purpose before extinction.

Back in 'my day'—though I didn't claim ownership of it at the time, still less do I now . . .

drown out the noise of time, is transformed into the whisper of history. This

But I was wrong about most things, then as now.

Many artists live with the shadow version of themselves. Unawareness of how things might have been if they have done this and not that. If life had made this choice for them rather than that. The road not taken remains at the back of the mind. For some their shadow exists as an external presence, for others an inner haunting.

This last isn't something I actually saw, but what you end up remembering isn't always the same as what you have witnessed.

I considered ducking the appointment, but eventually decided to let the heart speak, and rolled up. I had, after all, spent three days wondering what it would be like to be married to her. In fact, I'd thought about Annick so much that I couldn't remember what she looked like. It was like putting layer after layer of papier mâché over an object and gradually seeing the original shape disappear. How terrible if I failed to recognise the woman I'd already been married to for three days.

While Nigel chattered away about the ghoulish features of dying which interested him, I grew melancholy at the half-finished things which a death persuades you to focus on.

People say of death, 'There's nothing to be frightened of'. They say it quickly, casually. Now let's say it again, slowly, with re-emphasis. 'There's NOTHING to be frightened of'. Jules Renard: 'The word that is most true, most exact, most filled with meaning, is the word nothing'.

characteristic of remorse is that nothing can be done about it: that the time has passed for apology or amends.