Quotes About Reflection

The art of today is that which really belongs to us: it is our own reflection. In condemning it we but condemn ourselves.

wash off the journey

Thus and thus is the world. Seeing the depth, we shall see also the height, and praise both.

But the very success which had intoxicated them rendered them also too complacent to learn from less prosperous competitors.

It was very strange that I, who knew the whole extent of space and time, and counted the wandering stars like sheep, overlooking none, but I who was the most awakened of all beings, I, the glory which myriads in all ages had given their lives to establish, and myriads had worshipped, should now look about me with the same overpowering awe, the same abashed and tongue-tied worship as that which human travelers in the desert feel under the stars.

he tried hard to analyse his feelings about the human species, and the causes of his own fluctuation between adoration and contemptuous resentment

It is much harder to forgive yourself than it is to forgive others. You will not master the act of forgiveness until you start with yourself.

I still look back with pleasure on the first scenes of my life, though that pleasure has been for the most part mingled with sorrow.

Tida går, forteler dei. Men det er vi som går. Tida blir liggande att ho, og lat henne ligge.

Beanie I have a wife and kids. Do I seem like a happy guy to you, Frank

Efter midnat, naar epidemien har sejret totalt, og byen med alle sine senge er de søvnsyges hospital, Der kan leves i disse timer inden morgengryet, men ingen tænker på det, alle sover.

That is why fiction existed, as a way to look at the world without being broken by it.

An image of an image, which is a perfect place to live if you want to be something other than what you once were.

Her hands stretch across the table and squeeze the fingers of my left hand. "I've got my bestest lover here, and we're talking about things that no longer exist for me. It's like discussing dreams we've had.

There are moments in your life when you feel the weight of your stupidity as an unbearable thing. You hardly believe that the thoughts you've had and the beliefs you've held are actually your own, yet they have been, and you know, with the full certainty of religious conviction, that you are flawed in a deep and terrible way.

He was drunk, but this was something he'd thought about for a long time and needed no sobriety to express—just a listener.

Or maybe her smile has nothing to do with me, and I'm not really the center of the universe. Unlikely, but possible.

this was why fiction existed, as a way to look at the world without being broken by it.

It had been a five-year exercise in self-immolation.

The situation is grave: the way we lean over each other, the way years later we emerge: hunchbacked, hooded, with full grown tender things called souls.

Pacing from room to room and in each window a different version of a framed woman unable to rest, set against a sky full of beating wings and abandoned directions. Her five chambered heart filling with the panic of birds, asking: What? What if not this?

Wind against window—let the words fight it out— As I try to remember: What is it That's so late in coming? What was it I understood so well last night, so well it kissed me, Sweetly, on the forehead?

The best conversations are with yourself. At least there's no risk of a misunderstanding.

Everything will pass. The wise Man knows this from the start, and has no regrets.