Quotes About Reflection

No one sees what is before his feet: they scan the tracks of heaven.

No one can give you better advice than yourself.

Not to know what has been transacted in former times is to be always a child. If no use is made of the labors of past ages, the world must remain always in the infancy of knowledge.

Quod est ante pedes nemo spectat: coeli scrutantur plagas. (No one sees what is before his feet: we all gaze at the stars.)

There is nothing so ridiculous absurd* but some philosopher has said it.

Vivere est cogitare. (To think is to live)

Not to know what has been transacted in former times is to be always a child. If no use is made of the labours of past ages, the world must remain always in the infancy of knowledge.

For books are more than books, they are the life, the very heart and core of ages past, the reason why men worked and died, the essence and quintessence of their lives.

The life of the dead is set in the memory of the living.

The face is a picture of the mind with the eyes as its interpreter.

To study philosophy is nothing but to prepare one's self to die.

It is not by muscle, speed, or physical dexterity that great things are achieved, but by reflection, force of character, and judgment.

We must not say every mistake is a foolish one.

It is foolish to tear one's hair in grief, as though sorrow would be made less by baldness.

It is a great thing to know your vices.

We must learn to accept that there is no meaning to life, but this raises the question whether life is worth living at all – which he saw as the fundamental question of philosophy.

Pour qui est né après la seconde guerre mondiale, ces événements vieux d'un demi-siècle sont comme des histoires de loups-garous. Cependant le message par lequel s'achève le compte-rendu de ces événements, et qui ne devait être que symbolique, est devenu d'actualité. (postface, 1993)

Ik denk dat mama zich een gast heeft gevoeld in het leven. Ze deed altijd alsof het haar niets aanging, het leven, alsof het niet van haar was. Alsof ze er toevallig in terecht was gekomen, zoals je een huis binnen kan lopen wanneer je je in het adres hebt vergist, en dan per ongeluk in dat huis blijft hangen. Buiten stroomt het van de regen en je hebt geen paraplu bij je.

Too much God and you overdose. God needs to be filtered.

The past is a closed door.

Love blurs your vision; but after it recedes, you can see more clearly than ever. It's like the tide going out, revealing whatever's been thrown away and sunk: broken bottles, old gloves, rusting pop cans, nibbled fishbodies, bones.

The minimalist life. Pleasure is an egg. Blessings that can be counted, on the fingers of one hand.

When you're young, you think everything you do is disposable. You move from now to now, crumpling time up in your hands, tossing it away. You're your own speeding car. You think you can get rid of things, and people too--leave them behind. You don't yet know about the habit they have, of coming back.

When we think of the past it's the beautiful things we pick out. We want to believe it was all like that.