Quotes About Introspection

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Chapter 31 NOTHING MUCH else happened, all the rest of that night.

How do you get so empty? he wondered. Who takes it out of you? And that awful flower the other day, the dandelion! It had summed up everything, hadn't it? "What a shame! You're not in love with anyone!" And why not?

After all, each story is a Rorschach Test, isn't it? And if people find beasties and bedbugs in my ink-splotches, I cannot prevent it, can I? They will insist on seeing them, anyway, and that is their privilege. Still, I wish people, quasi-intellectuals, did not try so hard to find the man under the old maid's bed. More often than not, as we know, he simply isn't there.

Let me alone, said Mildred. I didn't do anything. Let you alone! That's all very well, but how can I leave myself alone? We need not to be let alone. We need to be really bothered once in a while. how long is it since you were really bothered? About something important, about something real?

Come on now, we're going to go build a mirror factory first and put out nothing but mirrors for the next year and take a long look in them.

But that was another Mildred so deep inside this one, and so bothered, really bothered, that the two women had never met.

Montag wanted to fly near the sun and now that he's burnt his damn wings, he wonders why

I'm seventeen and I'm crazy.

I don't know anything any more, he said, and let a sleep lozenge dissolve on his tongue

For only after, can one nail down, examine, explain. To try to know beforehand is to freeze and kill. Self-consciousness is the enemy of all art, be it acting, writing, painting, or living itself, which is the greatest art of all.

He walked toward the corner, thinking little at all about nothing in particular.

There were differences between memories and dreams. He had only dreams of things he had wanted to do, while Lespere had memories of things done and accomplished. And this knowledge began to pull Hollis apart, with a slow, quivering precision.

From now on I hope always to stay alert, to educate myself as best I can. But, lacking this, in future I will relaxedly turn back to my secret mind to see what it has observed when I thought I was sitting this one out. We never sit anything out. We are cups, constantly and quietly being filled. The trick is, knowing how to tip ourselves over and let the beautiful stuff out. M

But most of all, I like to watch people. Sometimes I ride the subway all day and look at them and listen to them. I just want to figure out who they are and what they want and where they are going.

This was all he wanted now. Some sign that the immense world would accept him and give him the long time needed to think all the things that must be thought.

After all, when we had all the books we needed, we still insisted on finding the highest cliff to jump off. But we do need a breather. We do need knowledge. And perhaps in a thousand years we might pick smaller cliffs to jump off. Books are to remind us what asses and fools we are. Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury

no man's a hero to himself.

It's a lonely life, but you're used to it now, aren't you?

I think I begin to see where everything fell apart. The books I read, jetsam to you. Junk. Why didn't we realize that ten years back? Lots of things you don't notice when you're- he slowed- in love.

I started traveling. My luggage was snowed under blizzards of travel stickers. I have been alone in Paris, alone in Vienna, alone in London, and all in all, it is very much like being alone in Green Town, Illinois. It is, in essence, being alone. Oh, you have plenty of time to think, improve your manners, sharpen your conversations. But I sometimes think I could easily trade a verb tense or a curtsy for some company that would stay over for a thirty-year weekend.

Did all dying people feel this way, as if they had never lived?

Three in the morning, thought Charles Halloway, seated on the edge of his bed. Why did the train come at that hour? For, he thought, it's a special hour. Women never wake then, do they?

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