Quotes About Reflection

Any man that walks the mead In bud, or blade, or bloom, may find A meaning suited to his mind.

I stood on a tower in the wet, And New Year and Old Year met, And winds were roaring and blowing: And I said, "O years, that meet in tears, Have ye aught that is worth the knowing? Science enough and exploring, Wanderers coming and going, Matter enough for deploring, But aught that is worth the knowing?"

Before every action ask yourself. Will this bring more monkeys on my back. Will the result of my action be a blessing or a heavy burden?

The only calendar I need is just outside my window. With eyes to see and ears to hear, nature keeps me posted.

Tears are the summer showers to the soul.

Show me your garden and I shall tell you what you are.

For there is no gardening without humility, an assiduous willingness to learn, and a cheerful readiness to confess you were mistaken. Nature is continually sending even its oldest scholars to the bottom of the class for some egregious blunder.

Show me your garden, provided it be your own, and I will tell you what you are like.

Our modern pessimists cannot see a tree, a flower, or a mountain, but straightway they drop into what I may call a falling sickness, and all the beauty of the woods, fields, and sky merely suggests to them a picturesque background for their own superior sighs and sorrows.

The Poet, too, has a garden, and one by no means to be disdained; and Veronica told me that when, the other day, some tactless person asked him which of his works he likes best, he replied, "My garden."

From sunny woof and cloudy weft Fell rain in sheets; so, to myself I hummed these hazard rhymes, and left The learned volume on the shelf.

What real man of letters that ever ventured into the arid and somewhat vulgar domain of Party-politics has not felt the same feeling of revulsion, the same longing for the water-brooks?

Some of the finest poetry ever written upon life is to be found surely in the Old Testament.

Now the highest literature—and Poetry is confessedly the highest literature—is a transfiguring reflex of life; and in its magic mirror we perforce see reflected all the thoughts, feelings, interests, passions, and events of human existence.

There's got to be more to life than just living," Foyle said to the robot. "Then find it yourself, sir. Don't ask the world to stop moving because you have doubts.

Self-discovery is a slower process but a more natural one.

Oh! my friend, when you feel bursting on your lips the vow of eternal love, do not be afraid to yield, but do not confound wine with intoxication; do not think the cup divine because the draft is of celestial flavor; do not be astonished to find it broken and empty in the evening.

A happy memory is perhaps on this earth truer than happiness itself.

J'ai perdu ma force et ma vie, Et mes amis et ma gaieté; J'ai perdu jusqu'à la fierté Qui faisait croire à mon génie. Quand j'ai connu la Vérité, J'ai cru que c'était une amie ; Quand je l'ai comprise et sentie, J'en étais déjà dégoûté. Et pourtant elle est éternelle, Et ceux qui se sont passés d'elle Ici-bas ont tout ignoré. Dieu parle, il faut qu'on lui réponde. Le seul bien qui me reste au monde Est d'avoir quelquefois pleuré.

My heart, still full of her, traveled over her face, and found her there no more... I had thought to myself that a woman unknown had adopted by chance that voice and those eyes and I let the chilly statue pass looking athe skies

mais il y a au monde une chose sainte et sublime, c'est l'union de deux de ces êtres si imparfaits et si affreux. On est souvent trompé en amour, souvent blessé et souvent malheureux; mais on aime, et quand on est sur le bord de sa tombe, on se retourne pour regarder en arrière et on se dit : j'ai souffert souvent, je me suis trompé quelquefois, mais j'ai aimé. C'est moi qui ai vécu, et non pas un être factice créé par mon orgueil et mon ennui.»

La perfection n'existe pas ; la comprendre est le triomphe de l'intelligence humaine ; la désirer pour la posséder est la plus dangereuse des folies. P 29

D'ailleurs la mort est toujours là ; n'est-elle pas partout sous les pieds de l'homme, qui la rencontre à chaque pas dans cette vie ? L'eau, le feu, la terre, tout la lui offre sans cesse ; il la voit partout dès qu'il la cherche, il la porte à son côté.

There is no worse sorrow than remembering happiness in the day of sorrow.