Quotes About Introspection

We must learn to be alone in the midst of whatever denies us useful solitude.

The night was a time for bestial affinities, for drawing closer to oneself.

Carol looked at her. How do you become a poet? By feeling things - too much, I suppose, Therese answered conscientiously.

Who am I, anyway? Does one exist, or to what extent does one exist as an individual without friends, family, anybody to whom one can relate, to whom one's existence is of the least importance?

But even that question wasn't definite enough. Perhaps it was a statement after all: I don't want to die yet without knowing you.

There were many times when logic was of no comfort.

I'm not melancholic,' she protested, but the thin ice was under her feet again, the uncertainties. or was it that she always wanted a little more than she had, no matter how much she had?

I create things out of boredom with reality and with the sameness of routine and objects around me.

Perhaps identity, like hell, was merely other people.

Writing is a way of organizing experience and life itself.

Once a person has become detached from his possessions, his customary duties, his moments of solitude, where is he? What is he?

Each person carries around in himself a terrible other world of hell and the unknown. It is an enormous pit reaching below the deepest crater of the earth, or it is the thinnest air far beyond the moon. But it is frightening and essentially "unlike" man as he knows himself familiarly, so we spend all our days living at the other antipodes of ourself.

Carol looked at her, as if really seeing her for the first time that evening, and under her eyes that went from her face to her hands in her lap, Therese felt like a puppy Carol had bought at a roadside kennel, that Carol had just remembered was riding beside her.

Look at it, like a rat,' she said. 'A portrait of Harge.

And when all's said and done, the final comment will be (from me at least) so what? I'll live with my neuroses. I'll try to develop patience, with my handicapped personality. But I prefer to live with my neuroses and try to make the best of them.

A terrible silence fell in the room. Bill Ireton looked suddenly sober as a trout.

because neither of us will ever be any different from what we are this minute.

For the hundredth time, he examined his face in the bathroom mirror, patiently touched every scratch with the styptic pencil, and repowdered them. He ministered to his face and hands objectively, as if they were not a part of himself. When his eyes met the staring eyes in the mirror, they slipped away as they must have slipped away, Guy thought, that first afternoon on the train, when he had tried to avoid Bruno's eyes.

Therese frowned, floundering in a sea without direction or gravity, in which she knew only that she could mistrust her own impulses.

Sintió que el sí quedaba absorbido por la oscuridad, no como las demás noches, en que el sí había sido mudo, sin ni siquiera salir de él mismo. El sí deshizo el nudo que tenía en la cabeza tan bruscamente que le hizo daño. Era lo que había estado esperando decir, lo que el silencio de la habitación y las bestias al otro lado de las paredes habían estado esperando oír.

He hated going back to himself as he would have hated putting on a shabby suit of clothes, a grease-spotted, unpressed suit of clothes that had not been very good even when it was new.

Not that I am conservative, but did you know that one drink has the kick of three when you are alone?

And she wondered, as she had often wondered before, if Richard liked her only because she was more sympathetic with his ambitions than anyone else he happened to know now, and because he felt her criticism was a help to him.

I can easily bear cold, loneliness, hunger and toothache, but I cannot bear noise, heat, interruprions, or other people.