Quotes About Reflection

Buffalo Bill's defunct who used to ride a watersmooth-silver stallion and break onetwothreefourfive pigeonsjustlikethat Jesus he was a handsome man and what i want to know is how do you like your blueeyed boy Mister Death

the other guineahen died of a broken heart and we came to New York. I used to sit at a table,drawing wings with a pencil that kept breaking and i kept remembering how your mind looked when it slept for several years,to wake up asking why. So then you turned into a photograph of somebody who's trying not to laugh at somebody who's trying not to cry

Me up at does out of the floor quietly Stare a poisoned mouse still who alive is asking What have i done that You wouldn't have

It is always ourselves we find in the seas.

life's not a paragraph And death i think is no parenthesis..

For whatever we lose (like a you or a me) it's always ourselves we find in the sea

Now is the time when all occasional things close into silence.

the ponderous ferocity of silence….

Buffalo Bills defunct who used to ride a watersmooth-silver stallion and break onetwothreefourfive pigeonsjustlikethat Jesus he was a handsome man and what I want to know is how do you like your blueeyed boy Mister Death

god's terrible face,brighter than a spoon, collects the image of one fatal word; so that my life(which liked the sun and moon) resembles something that has not occurred

in spite of everything which breathes and moves, since Doom (with white longest hands neatening each crease) will smooth entirely our minds --before leaving my room I turn, and(stooping through the morning)kiss this pillow, dear where our heads lived and were.

may came home with a smooth round stone as small as a world and as large as alone. For whatever we lose(like a you or a me) it's always ourselves we find in the sea

We view the past, and achieve our understanding of the past, only through the eyes of the present

Man's capacity to rise above his social and historical situation seems to be conditioned by the sensitivity with which he recognizes the extent of his involvement in it.

The story was clearly over, as in juggling when the ball you throw up finds the moment to come down, hesitates as if it might not, and then drops at the same speed of that celestial light. And life is no longer good but just what you happen to be holding.

I've had very little experience in my life. In fact, I try to avoid experience if I can. Most experience is bad.

And so do people pass out of one's life and all you can remember of them is their humanity, a poor fitful thing of no dominion, like your own.

He was a moody, distracted young fellow, and it was clear his own mind was more company to him than people were.

Writing teachers invariably tell students, write about what you know. That's, of course, what you have to do, but on the other hand, how do you know what you know until you've written it? Writing is knowing... I've had very little experience in my life. In fact, I try to avoid experience if I can. Most experience is bad.

I try to avoid experience if I can. Most experience is bad.

Mi único trauma es la vida.

Homer, maybe you can tell me why I am fatally attracted to women who are no more than mirrors of myself.

if I moved at the speed of light, I could get no confirmation of my existence from an objective source of reflected lightsuch as a mirror. I would be like a ghost in the universe, materially unverifiable in the stream of time.

Some people spend all their time on a vacation taking pictures so that when they get home they can show their friends evidence that they had a good time. They don't pause to let the vacation enter inside of them and take that home.