Quotes About Introspection

I felt a wish never to leave that room - a wish that dawn might never come, that my present frame of mind might never change.

sometimes life is a whole lot more interesting inside my head than it is on the outside.

You probably popped open this tome hoping to find some kick-butt battles, some pithy wisecracks, some unlikely but oh-so-possible end-of-the-world scenario, only to find me up a tree, wallowing in self-pity.

A snatch of Nietzsche came to him

the sandpaper voice, was all but echoing between my ears. A prick and a prophet all at once. Sometimes shit happens in the dark.…

I am the wisest man alive, for I know one thing, and that is that I know nothing,'" I quoted. "Socrates." Mary Catherine said, "You were already proving your point. You didn't have to back it up with a quote.

I suddenly felt tired of listening to my own voice.

I sometimes daydream about becoming somebody else. Anybody else. Not me. I imagine how I might lose myself, my old self.

Some days I hate everyone. But no one more than I hate myself.

because blaming our behavior on forces outside ourselves is a way of avoiding responsibility.

Prvi korak za svakog od nas u procesu raš?iš?avanja jest da svoju osobnu dramu potpuno osvjestimo. Ništa se ne može nastaviti sve dok ne pogledamo sami sebe i ne otkrijemo što ?inimo kako bi manipulirali energijom.

Kesombongan dan kelemahan adalah kembar siam.

In my junior year I discovered books. . . . Devoured [them] the way other kids did candy or sandwiches, spent days hunched over . . . my spine an oversized question mark.

I wondered then: what was it that started a person sinking? Was that long fall in him (or her) from the start, in us all perhaps; or something he put there himself, creating it over time and unwittingly just as he created his face, his life, the stories he lived by, the ones that let him go on living.

We were moderate, we will never know what it is to spill out our lives...

When he undressed at night he was like a diplomat or a judge. A white body, gentle and powerless, emerged from his clothes, his position in the world lay tumbled on the floor, fallen from his ankles...

Anne-Marie Costallat, born October 8, 1944. I was beginning high school and masturbating twice a day, curling over it like a dead leaf, when she was born, in a bed of violets, as she says—all French mothers tell their children that.

If you can overcome the occasional angst, you may have the chance to see some interesting things, perhaps the same things the tour buses bring people to see, but purified by solitude, if you will. In any case, do not stay in the hotel room. That is the only place you are vulnerable.

Er komt een tijd dat je alleen bent, schreef Céline lang voordat het hem echt overkwam, als je aan het eind bent gekomen van alles wat je overkomen kan. Het is het einde van de wereld, zelfs verdriet, je eigen verdriet, geeft geen antwoord meer en je moet op je schreden terugkeren, je weer onder de mensen begeven, het maakt niet uit wie.

She has a narrow mouth, cast down at the corners, weighted there by the sourness of knowledge.

My own life suddenly seems nothing, an old costume, a collection of rags, and I walk, I breathe to the rhythm of his which is stronger than mine.

A veces uno es consciente de cuándo están sucediéndose los grandes momentos de su vida y a veces los descubre mirando al pasado. Tal vez suceda lo mismo con las personas.

Inside you there are universes. You contain multitudes.

Shakespeare's sonnets give us no access to his personal history.