Quotes About Introspection

What do I know of life? what of myself? I know not even my own work past or present

Talk honestly, no one else hears you, and I stay only a minute longer.) Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes.) I concentrate toward them that are nigh, I wait on the door-slab.

re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem...

Si quieres saber donde esta tu corazón, mira donde va tu mente cuando sueñas despierto.

When I Read the Book When I read the book, the biography famous,   And is this then (said I) what the author calls a man's life?   And so will some one when I am dead and gone write my life?   (As if any man really knew aught of my life,   Why even I myself I often think know little or nothing of my real life,   Only a few hints, a few diffused faint clews and indirections   I seek for my own use to trace out here.)

Here I sit gossiping in the early candle-light of old age—and my book—casting backward glances over our travel'd road.

Do you suspect death? If I were to suspect death I should die now

Sem munkát-megtakarító gépet nem alkottam, Sem felfedezésem nincsen, Sem gazdag örökséget nem hagyok kórház, vagy könyvtár alapítására, Sem bátor tettek emlékét Amerika szolgálatában, Sem szellemi, sem irodalmi sikert, sem könyvet a könyves-polc számára, Csupán a levegÅ'ben hullámzó néhány dalom marad itt, Társaknak és szerelmeseknek.

I lean and loafe at my ease...observing a spear of summer grass.

Vagyok, ahogy vagyok, elég ennyi, Ha senki más nem vesz észre a világon, békén ülök, És ha mindenki észrevesz, akkor is békén ülök.

Zbunjuje to i užasava, kako bi me brzo ubio izlazak sunca, Kada ne bih mogao, sada i uvek, da izazovem izlazak sunca iz sebe.

Is this ten a touch? Quivering me to a new identity

Is this then a touch? quivering me to a new identity

There is that in me - I do not know what it is - but I know it is in me

When I read the book, the biography famous, And is this then (said I) what the author calls a man's life? And so will some one when I am dead and gone write my life? (As if any man really knew aught my life, Why even I myself I often think know little or nothing of my real life, Only a few hints, a few diffused faint clews and indirections I seek for my own use to trace out here.)

I do not trouble my spirit to vindicate itself or be understood

Solitude appeared to me as the only fit state of man.

Do not write the conclusion of a work in your familiar study. You would not find the necessary courage there.

The point is that in society everybody must answer the question of what he is—as distinct from the question of who he is—

When Miss O'Brien looked at me... what did she see that caused her to turn away? What did she see?

Sometimes everybody touches in the dark. You touch to see what you can stand to touch, what you can to feel with your fingers probing parts you never though you could probably probe - Gray

Sometimes I feel like I have walked into the middle of a movie. It is a strange movie with no plot and no beginning. The movie is in black and white, and grainy. Sometimes the camera moves in so close that you can't tell what is going on and you just listen to the sounds and guess.

Sometimes I feel like I have walked into the middle of a movie. It is a strange movie with no plot and no beginning. The movie is in black and white, and grainy.

he never finished any of the works he began because, so sublime was his idea of art, he saw faults even in the things that to others seemed miracles.