Quotes About Reflection

Where grave philosophers have watched the setting sun die out of the sky, as the glories of their own youth have died away unvalued, till lost for ever. Where ascetic reading-men have mooned along its banks blind to all the loveliness of the water-lily below, or the clouds above, as they took their constitutional and pondered their prize essay.

Once again alone, my grief was unrestrained; so much so that the woman of the house came and hammered at the door and swore at me for a "dratted yelping beast," which only made my cries the louder. As several hours went on, however, and my solitude remained unbroken, I cried myself so hoarse that I was unable to emit any sort of sound at last; and thought I might as well vary my imprisonment by looking out of the casement.

When he had once determined on a thing he never looked back; sometimes it had been better for him if he had. Yet, in the long run, I have known more mischief done by indecision of character than anything else in the world, and he is safe to be the strongest and stoutest-hearted who never looks back, whether he has determined on quitting Sodom or on staying in it The evil lies in hasty judgment, not in prompt action.

God speaks to those who take time to listen, and He listens to those who take time to pray.

One good way to inventory ourselves is to ask ourselves questions about specific character traits. Then we examine in writing the ways that we've exhibited these characteristics in our lives. For instance, we might ask ourselves if we have been prideful. Have arrogance and false pride characterized our behavior? If so, we list them in our inventory. Then, we illustrate the characteristic of pride by listing examples of how pride has caused us to act.

Like fragile ice anger passes away in time.

We can learn even from our enemies.

He who lives well, lives hidden.

We two are to ourselves a crowd.

Plato had to make the tremendous effort (it is one of the most exhausting which man is called on to exert) of turning a vague feeling into a clear thought.

Wordsworth's called The Tables Turned: Sweet is the lore which nature brings: Our meddling intellect Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things— We murder to dissect.

Interior is anterior.

For inconsistent and slovenly thought can abide indefinitely in error without any feeling of discomfort.

Meditation is the soul's perspective glass.

Freedom of speech and association; due process; habeas corpus; the Fourth Amendment warrant requirement; even the prohibitions on torture and extrajudicial killings—the law governing these constitutional principles looks vastly different in 2015 than it did in the summer of 2001.

I ain't sure whether you're crazy or not," said he to the man in the lookin-glass. "I ain't never been sure.

Nostalgia is like a grammar lesson: you find the present tense, but the past perfect!

When things happen - you ask yourself why today, why not tomorrow, why not yesterday? That's the most amazing thing about time.

Ozzy, why do you drink so much? What's the point?' The right answer to that question was: because I'm an alcoholic; because I have an addictive personality; because whatever I do, I do it addictively. But I didn't know any of that back then.

I remember coming to in white room, with white walls, and people all around me covered in white sheets and thinking, F**k, I'm in the morgue. Then I heard a hissing noise next to my bed. Pssst, pssst. I looked down and there was this kid holding up a pen and a copy of "Bark at the Moon" . 'Will you sign this for me?' he asked. 'F**k off,' I told him. 'I'm dead.'

It was the first time I'd ever been in a Roller. I sat there in the back seat, like the King of England, thinking, 'Three years ago, you were a puke remover in a slaughterhouse, and before that you were doling out slop to child molesters in Winson Green. Now look where you are.'

I was a free man, and I'd survived prison without being arse raped or beaten to a pulp. So how come I felt so f**king sad?

One thing I've learned about myself over the years is that I'm no good at dealing with people dying. It's not that I'm afraid of it – I know that everyone's gotta go eventually – but I can't help thinking that there are only one or two ways of being brought into this world, but there are so many f**ked-up ways of leaving it.

The fact that I ever raised my hand against a woman disgusts me. It was a f**king atrocious, unforgivable way to behave, and there's no excuse for it, ever. And like I said before, it's something I'll take to the grave with me.