Quotes About Introspection

Observe your enemies, for they first find your faults.

When all hopes are lost, only then does reality acquire that sharp focus that defines who we are and what we have become.

When first resurrected, he'd worried constantly over which aspects of his past he should imitate for the sake of sanity, and which he should discard as a matter of honesty.

Sometimes I wonder if my stability has anything to do with me; maybe the real constant is the way I've been prepared. Maybe an infinite number of different people, put through the same process, would all emerge the same. Have all emerged the same. I don't know.

There are times when it's worth putting aside the endless myopic navel-gazing that occupies so much literature in order to look out at the universe itself and value it for what it is

And I could go on doing it, walking the convoluted border between meaningless happiness and meaningless despair. Maybe I was lucky; maybe the best way to cling to that zone was to see clearly what lay on either side.

All we can ever know about are the portraits of each other inside our own skulls.

What am I? The data? The process that generates it? The relationships between the numbers?

For a moment, you won't be certain what you've done. What you've done is this: You have done the best you could. On the darkest of pathways, you have managed to stay true to the better angel of your nature.

I educated myself, discovered my gift for language, learned that the larger world lay not across oceans but within the human mind and heart.

You cannot lose what is inside you," Chirrut said. "You can only misplace it. The task, then, is to find it again.

Maybe that's all growing up is. Knowing in real time that you don't know anything.

way we answer the simple, timeless question Who are we? On a more

Remember, the hard part isn't killing," he says, not for the first time, or the fiftieth. "The hard part is staying human.

as long as he could remember, loneliness had been his companion.

he didn't drink to numb his senses. He drank to try to cleanse himself from the inside out. He pressed

When was the last time I'd been the centre of anyone's attention? From 'Or She Dies'.

What I had was more than anyone could ask for, but I couldn't figure out how to inhabit it again. From 'Or She Dies'.

Trying to convince himself that as a four-year-old boy he might have been something worth keeping.

The question struck him deep, in a place he'd kept insulated for so long he'd forgotten that it was vulnerable.

The women laugh a little. I do too. Though I'm only mimicking their laughter. Nothing is funny to me.

Besides, please bear in mind that no one with anything to say ever said anything about anybody but himself.

Why must conversions always come so late? Why do people apologize to corpses?

It is one thing to speak of embracing the new, the fresh, the strange. It is another to feel that one is an insect, crawling across a page of the Encyclopedia Britannica, knowing only that something vast is passing by beneath, all without your sensing more than a yawning vacancy.