Quotes About Introspection

Il pensiero le tornava sempre a un punto: che non c'era nessuno capace d'intendere, neanche lontanamente, tutto quello che lei intendeva, tutto quello che c'era in lei.

Se poate afla cu u?urin?? cât fier ?i ce metale se g?sesc în soare ?i în stele,dar s? sco?i la iveal? tic?lo?ia noastr? e greu,îngrozitor de greu...

Y lo más terrible es que tengo la culpa de todo y sin embargo no soy culpable. En eso consiste mi tragedia

Ferreting in one's soul, one often ferrets out something that might have lain there unnoticed.

At the fact that I'm unable to think up a situation in which life would not be suffering, that we're all created in order to suffer, and that we all know it and keep thinking up ways of deceiving ourselves. But if you see the truth, what can you do?

M? ?????? ????????? ?????? ??? ?? ??????? ????. ?????? ????!

He felt for the first moment as a man feels when, having suddenly received a violent blow from behind, he turns round, angry and eager to avenge himself, to look for his antagonist, and finds that it is he himself who has accidentally struck himself, that there is no one to be angry with, and that he must put up with and try to soothe the pain.

En que estaba pensando? Si, en mi vida; como sea que me la represente no puede ser sino dolor. Todos estamos llamados a sufrir, lo sabemos y queremos disimularlo de alguna manera. Pero cuando nos clava sus ojos la verdad, ¿Que nos queda por hacer?

The main thing he wanted to weep about was a sudden, vivid awareness of the terrible opposition between something infinitely great and indefinable that was in him, and something narrow and fleshy that he himself, and even she, was. This opposition tormented him and gladdened him while she sang.

And suddenly both of them felt that though they were friends, though they had been dining and drinking together, which should have drawn them closer, yet each was thinking only of his own affairs, and they had nothing to do with one another.

Thus ran his thoughts; he wanted to go to bed, but he felt loath to tear himself away from the book.

And the pain?" he asked himself. "What has become of it? Where are you, pain?" He turned his attention to it. "Yes, here it is. Well, what of it? Let the pain be.

Did the Toyon not see that he, too, had been born like the others—with bright, open eyes, in which heaven and earth were reflected, and with a pure heart which was ready to hearken to all that was beautiful in the world. And if he longed now to hide his miserable and shameful self underground, it was no fault of his, nor did he know whose fault it was. The one thing he knew was that there was no patience left in his heart.

It seems that Pharisee must have been such a man as I am. I, too, apparently have thought only of myself,—how I might have my tea, be warm and comfortable, but never to think about my guest. He thought about himself, but there was not the least care taken of the guest. And who was his guest? The Lord Himself. If He had come to me, should I have done the same way?

It hurt her to stir up these feelings, but yet she knew that that was the best part of her soul, and that that part of her soul would quickly be smothered in the life she was leading.

told him long ago: that God is here and everywhere. In his captivity he had learned that in Karataev God was greater, more infinite and unfathomable than in the Architect of the Universe recognized by the Freemasons. He felt like a man who after straining his eyes to see into the far distance finds what he sought at his very feet. All his life he had looked over the heads of the men around him, when he should have merely looked in front of him without straining his eyes.

he knew his own soul, it was dear to him, he protected it as the eyelid protects the eye, and did not let anyone into his soul without the key of love.

He prayed for purity, humility, love, and now it seemed to him that God heard his prayers. He had not lagged behind the times in knowledge. He now had neither love nor humility nor purity.

Our feet have reached the holy places, but our hearts may not have done so.

People who are given to deliberating on their actions generally find themselves in a serious frame of mind when it comes to embarking on a journey or changing their mode of life. At such moments one reviews the past and forms plans for the future.

Konstantin Levin non amava parlare delle bellezze della natura né sentirne parlare. Le parole, secondo lui, toglievano la bellezza alle cose che vedeva.

But the more he strained to think, the clearer it became to him that it was undoubtedly so, that he had actually forgotten, overlooked in his life one small circumstance - that death would come and everything would end, that it was not worth starting anything and that nothing could possibly be done about it. Yes, it was terrible, but it was so.

He looked intently and inquiringly into his friend's eyes, evidently trying in vain to find the answer to some question.

All these traces of his life seemed to clutch him, and to say to him: "No, you're not going to get away from us, and you're not going to be different, but you're going to be the same as you've always been; with doubts, everlasting dissatisfaction with yourself, vain efforts to amend, and falls, and everlasting expectation, of a happiness which you won't get, and which isn't possible for you.