Quotes About Introspection

Adoro los silencios incómodos, ¿usted no, doctor? Todo lo que implican. Llenan el vacío con la fuerza de las palabras no dichas. Porque lo que no se dice a veces es más inquietante.

O que a literatura faz é o mesmo que acender um fósforo no campo no meio da noite. Um fósforo não ilumina nada, mas permite ver quanta escuridão existe ao redor.

In an inescapable way, we sucked, and we knew it, and humility was called for.

Fearful of missing anything, he read on, filled with this anticipation which was half terror, of coming upon something which would touch him, not simply touch him but lift him and carry him away.

That after an hour's silence he can say, The one thing I cannot stand is dampness... That's all, it took him an hour to work that out.

You and I doctor, on the beach.

Sincerity becomes the honesty of people who cannot be honest with themselves.

No you won't understand will you! that your own selfish suffering's easier than facing suffering you've caused

and the romantics end up anchorites in the desert.

resurrection a dispensable preoccupation for one who had not yet lived.

Somewhere, deep within her, surfaces a tiny clockwork submarine. There are times when you can only take the next step. And then another.

Case fell into the prison of his own flesh.

Be quiet, darling. Let pattern recognition have its way.

I think I'd tell her about the loneliness of being misunderstood. Or is it the loneliness of being afraid to allow ourselves to be understood?

Noches que con gran cuidado eliminaste de la desordenada baraja de tu pasado

Something stilled the part of him that knitted narrative, that grew the underbrush of lies in which he lived.

He found himself wondering about the mind he shared these sensations with. What did he know about her?

Netherton said nothing, something he'd only recently been learning to deliberately do.

I don't know. You might say what I am is basically defined by the fact that I don't know, because I can't know.

Something that induced a dissociative state. It was difficult to complain about a dissociative state.

Annie: Maybe you all do. It's my idea of the original sin. James: What is? Annie: Giving up.

He drinks the vodka. He watches television. And every passing face is masked, mouths and nostrils concealed behind filters.

I believe man suffers from an appalling ignorance of his own nature. I produce my own view in the belief that it may be something like the truth.

What I mean is... maybe it's only us...