Quotes About Introspection

Know your mind and see your nature.

The Buddha asks us to see things as they really are. He does not ask us to cling to optimistic views of eternity or pessimistic views of annihilation but simply to examine our experience.

Another reason the "Are you still writing?" question is so hard to answer is that to ask me "Are you still writing?" is like asking "Are you still breathing?" Writing is the way I stay aware of being alive, the way I find out what I'm thinking, the way I understand the world.

Reginald Hill

Whoever has no house now, will never have one. Whoever is alone will stay alone, will sit, read, write long letters through the evening, and wander on the boulevards, up and down, restlessly, while dry leaves are blowing.

Wir sind anderen ja auch nur zumutbar, wenn wir auch allein mit uns selbst zurechtkommen.

Jeho nedostatkem nebylo jeho konání, ale jeho ml?ení.

Auch die Sinnfrage stellt sich mir nicht mehr. Weil ich loszulassen gelernt habe. Wer den Sinn immerzu sucht, weil er abhandengekommen ist, wird ihn ebenso wenig finden wie das Glück. Beide sind verwurzelt und flüchtig zugleich. In uns selbst.

Samomluva a ml?ení prozrazují stav skupiny stejnÄ› jako sny.

AÃ…Â¥ je bouÃ…â"¢e, nebo sn?ží, ve white-outu, nebo ve stanu, Wild žalu ostatních nepÃ…â"¢izvukuje. Nikdy.

Je vd??ný, že se nikdo nevzteká, a odpoledne opravuje pal?áky. NÄ›kolik muž? ho pÃ…â"¢i tom ml?ky sleduje. HorÅ¡í by bylo, myslí si, kdyby z té naÅ¡í jeskynÄ› už nikdo nevylezl. PÃ…â"¢ece jenom je trochu uklid?ující sledovat, jak jim roste odvaha jenom proto, že se dívají, že nÄ›co dÄ›lám.

Není nic nepÃ…â"¢íjemnÄ›jÅ¡ího než chvástalové, kteÃ…â"¢í musejí neustále komentovat své pocity. Kv?li nim vznikají sváry a pochybnosti, které by nakonec mohly vést ke smrtícímu jedu.

Aš buvau tiek daug mat?s savo gyvenime, jog žinojau, kad arba reikia prikaišioti sau visk?, k? tik darai, arba nieko neprikaišiot.

The pleasure of being a scoundrel can be adequately savored in silence.

Each man must grant himself the emotions that he needs and the morality that suits him.

inside this prison he lived in freedom

That 'writers write' is meant to be self-evident. People like to say it. I find it is hardly ever true. Writers drink. Writers rant. Writers phone. Writers sleep. I have met very few writers who write at all.

And then there were the wallflowers who had recognized for years that the thing was hopeless, who had found in that information a kind of calm. They no longer tried, with a bright and desperate effort, to sustain a conversation with somebody's brother, somebody's usher, somebody's roommate, somebody's roommate's usher's brother... The category of wallflower who had given up on all this was very quiet, not indifferent, only quiet. And she always brought a book.

The salesgirl, the landlord, the guests, the bystanders, sixteen varieties of social circumstance in a day. Everyone has the power to call your whole life into question here. Too many people have access to your state of mind. Some people are indifferent to dislike, even relish it. Hardly anyone I know.

Your worst dungeon might be the room with the most windows.

IT IS SAID that if you want to know what you were doing in the past, look at your body now; if you want to know what will happen to you in the future, look at what your mind is doing now.

IN THIS EVER-CHANGING world there are two important things that we should keep in mind. The first is self-examination. We should re-examine our own attitude towards others and constantly check ourselves to see whether we are practising properly. Before pointing our finger at others we should point it towards ourselves. Secondly, we must be prepared to admit our faults and stand corrected.

MAY 1 THE VERY PURPOSE of religion is to control yourself, not to criticize others. Rather, we must criticize ourselves. How much am I doing about my anger? About my attachment, about my hatred, about my pride, my jealousy? These are the things which we must check in daily life.

It was not lost on him that he took greater pleasure from this woman's rejection than he had from any other woman's welcome. But he'd long ago ceased to wonder at the paradox that was his life.