Quotes About Reflection

Leer por puro placer, por la hermosa quietud que te envuelve cuando resuenan en la cabeza las palabras de un autor.

Sami sebe sme všetci cudzincami, a ak vôbec máme po?atie o tom, kto sme, je to iba preto, že žijeme v o?iach druhých.

On his best walks, he was able to feel that he was nowhere. And this, finally, was all he ever asked of things: to be nowhere.

Time moved in two directions because every step into the future carried a memory of the past

For it is only in the darkness of solitude that the work of memory begins.

The past, to repeat the words of Proust, is hidden in some material object. To wander about in the world, then, is also to wander about in ourselves.

And I am nothing if not a stupid, stupid man.

Toen hij de kluizenaar in de zachte aarde naast het beekje begroef, besefte hij dat alles mogelijk zou zijn voor hem op deze plek. Hij had voedsel en water; hij had een huis; hij had een nieuwe identiteit voor zichzelf gevonden, een nieuw en totaal onverwacht leven. Hij kon de ommekeer bijna niet vatten. Nog geen uur geleden had hij willen sterven. Nu beefde hij van geluk, niet in staat te stoppen met lachen toen hij de ene schop na de andere op het gezicht van de dode man wierp.

Reason and memory are nearly always at odds.

Tus pies descalzos en el suelo frío cuando te levantas de la cama y vas a la ventana. Tienes sesenta y cuatro años. Afuera, la atmósfera es gris, casi blanca, no se ve el sol. Te preguntas: ¿Cuántas mañanas quedan? Se ha cerrado una puerta. Otra se ha abierto. Has entrado en el invierno de tu vida.

And even if there was an end, it seemed doubtful that I would ever know about it — which meant that the story would go on and on, secreting its poison inside me forever.

These are the last things, she wrote. One by one they disappear and never come back. I can tell you of the ones I have seen, of the ones that are no more, but I doubt there will be time. It is all happening too fast now, and I cannot keep up.

every time Mike challenged him he would have to think harder about what he believed in himself, and how could you ever learn anything if you only talked to people who thought exactly as you did?

hameye ma dar barkhord ba gozashte chenin raftar mikonim,sagha va adamha

The boundaries of my world had shrunk, but I was still alive, and as long as I could go on breathing and farting and thinking my thoughts, what difference did it make where I was?

La primera vez que entendía que la memoria es un lugar, un sitio de verdad al que se podía ir

Estaba buscando un sitio tranquilo para morir

Knowledge comes slowly, and when it comes, it is often at great personal expense.

All the happiness of man stems from one thing only: that he is incapable of staying quietly in his room.

Here I am of the air, a beautiful thing for the light to shine on. Perhaps you will remember that.

He finds a fresh sheet of paper. He lays it out on the table before him and writes these words with his pen. It was. It will never be again. Remember.

Ha az ember annyi id?t megélt, mint én, hajlamos azt hinni, már mindent hallott, nincs már, ami megdöbbentse. Önelégülten hiszi, hogy ismeri a világot, aztán id?nként jön valami, ami kirántja a fels?bbrend? önelégültség gubójából, ami újra emlékezteti, hogy kutyagumit se tud az életr?l.

Existimos para nosotros mismos, quizá, y a veces vislumbramos quiénes somos, pero al final nunca podemos estar seguros, y mientras nuestras vidas continúan, nos volvemos cada vez más opacos para nosotros mismos, más y más conscientes de nuestra propia incoherencia

Your bare feet on the cold floor as you climb out of bed and walk to the window. You are sixty-four years old. Outside, the air is gray, almost white, with no sun visible. You ask yourself: How many mornings are left? A door has closed. Another door has opened. You have entered the winter of your life.