Quotes About Introspection

Es el reflejo de mi rostro. A menudo en estos días perdidos, me quedo contemplándolo. No comprendo nada de este rostro. Los de los demás tienen un sentido. El mío, no.

Aram?zda bir yak?nl?k duygusu yok. Birbirimize benziyoruz sadece. Benim gibi o da yaln?z, ama yaln?zl???n?n içine daha çok batm??.

El peligro de llevar un diario es que se exagera todo, uno esta al acecho, forzando continuamente la verdad

I do not neglect myself, quite the contrary: this morning I took a bath and shaved. Only when I think back over those careful little actions, I cannot understand how I was able to make them, They are so vain. Habit, no doubt, made them for me. They aren't dead, they keep on busying themselves, gently, insidiously weaving their webs, they wash me, dry me, dress me, like nurses. Did they also lead me to this hill? I can't remember how I came anymore.

L'enfer c'est les autres " (… ) cela ne veut nullement dire qu'on ne puisse avoir d'autres rapports avec les autres, ça marque simplement l'importance capitale de tous les autres pour chacun de nous. » Commentaire de Sartre sur Huis Clos

There is no need for hell fire in hell. Hell is other people.

Y se acerca el día en el que se dirá, cerrando el último volumen del último estante del extremo izquierdo: "¿y ahora?

Ä°nsan kendi kendine sormal?, diye düÅŸündü Mösyö Darbédat, sorumluluk nerede baÅŸlar ya da daha çok nerede biter?

Ä°nan bana, her ÅŸeye kendini kand?rmaya çal??madan bakmak, en iyisidir.

GüneÅŸin ac?mas?z bir yarg? gibi yarat?klar?n üzerine saçt??? bu soÄŸuk ayd?nl?klar, gözlerimden içime ak?yor; yoksullaÅŸt?r?c? bir ???kla ayd?nlan?yorum.

Like all dreamers, I mistook disenchantment for truth

Comprendo muy bien que he ido demasiado lejos. Supongo que uno no puede prever los inconvenientes de la soledad.

I had thought out this sentence, at first it had been a small part of myself. Now it was inscribed on the paper, it took sides against me. I didn't recognize it any more. I couldn't conceive it again. It was there, in front of me; in vain for me to trace some sign of its origin. Anyone could have written it. But I ... I wasn't sure I wrote it. The letters glistened no longer, they were dry. That had disappeared too; nothing was left but their ephemeral spark.

When I was little, my Aunt Bigeois told me 'If you look at yourself too long in the mirror, you'll see a monkey.' I must have looked at myself even longer than that: what I see is well below the monkey, on the fringe of the vegetable world, at the level of jellyfish.

A mo?e nikt nie rozumie w?asnej twarzy?

MdÅ'oÅ›ci nie znajdujÄ… siÄ™ we mnie: czujÄ™ je tam na Å›cianie, na szelkach, wszÄ™dzie wokóÅ' mnie. ??czÄ… siÄ™ z kawiarniÄ…, to ja znajdujÄ™ siÄ™ w nich.

I exist. It's sweet, so sweet, so slow. And light: you'd think it floated all by itself. It stirs. It brushes by me, melts and vanishes. Gently, gently. There is bubbling water in my mouth. I swallow. It slides down my throat, it caresses me—and now it comes up again into my mouth. For ever I shall have a little pool of whitish water in my mouth—lying low—grazing my tongue. And this pool is still me. And the tongue. And the throat is me.

But to what extent did I believe in my delirium? That's the basic question, and yet I can't tell. I realized later that we can know everything about our attachments except their force, that is, their sincerity.

Creo que soy yo el que ha cambiado, es la solución más simple, también la más desagradable

Cómo se puede mentir poniendo a la razón de parte de uno?

Quizá no haya nada en el mundo que me interese tanto como este sentimiento de aventura. Pero viene cuando quiere; y se va tan rápido, que me deja agotado. ¿Me hará estas breves visitas irónicas para demostrarme que he frustado mi vida?

De improviso se me aparece la verdad: este hombre morirá pronto. Seguramente lo sabe; basta con que se haya mirado en un espejo; cada día se parece un poco más al cadáver que será.

Everything tender and melancholy - as life is sometimes, just for one moment.

Every word I say has chains round its ankles; every thought I think is weighted with heavy weights. Since I was born, hasn't every word I've said, every thought I've thought, everything I've done, been tied up, weighted, chained? And mind you, I know that with all this I don't succeed. Or I succeed in flashes only too damned well. ...But think how hard I try and how seldom I dare. Think - and have a bit of pity. That is, if you ever think, you apes, which I doubt.