Quotes About Introspection

Instead of obtaining myself by fleeing, I find myself forsaken, alone, tossed into a dimensionless cubicle, where light and shadow are quiet ghosts. In my interior I find the silence I seek. But in it I become so lost from any memory of a human being and of myself that I make this impression into the certainty of physical solitude. If I were to scream - already without lucidity I imagine - my voice would receive the same, indifferent echo of the walls of the earth

E, se atravessara o amor e o seu inferno, penteava-se agora diante do espelho, por um instante sem nenhum mundo no coração. Antes de se deitar, como se apagasse uma vela, soprou a pequena flama do dia.

Who hasn't ever wondered: am I monster or is this what it means to be a person?

Quem já não se perguntou: sou um monstro ou isto é ser uma pessoa?

In no sense an intellectual, I write with my body. And what I write is like a dank haze. The words are sounds transfused with shadows that intersect unevenly, stalactites, woven lace, transposed organ music. I can scarcely invoke the words to describe this pattern, vibrant and rich, morbid and obscure, its counterpoint the deep bass of sorrow.

Tal vez la norestina ya hubiese llegado a la conclusión de que la vida incomoda bastante, el alma no cabe bien en el cuerpo, aun un alma pobre como la suya.

I want shade, I want shade and anonymity. from "The Departure

One way of getting is not looking, one way of having is not asking...

She saw dark, triumphant crimson in herself. What was making her glow so much? Boredom… Yes, in spite of everything there was fire under it, there was fire even when it represented death. Maybe this was the joy of living.

In my core I have the strange impression that I don't belong to the human species

I am blinded. I open my eyes wide and only see. But the secret - that I neither see nor feel. Could I be making here a true orgy of what's behind thought?

There is something here that frightens me. When I figure out what it is that frightens me, I shall also know what I love here. Fear has always guided me toward what I desire. And because I desire, I fear. Often it was fear that took me by the hand and led me. Fear leads me to danger. And everything I love is risky.

Mis desequilibradas palabras son el lujo de mi silencio.

Only once did she ask a tragic question: who am I? It frightened her so much that she completely stopped thinking.

Qué se puede hacer con la verdad de que todo el mundo esté un poco triste y un poco solo.

She transformed herself into organic simplicity. And she'd figured out how to find in simple and honest things the grace of sin.

she was inept. Inept for living. She had no idea how to cope with life and she was only vaguely aware of her own inner emptiness. Were she capable of explaining herself, she might well confide: the world stands outside me. I stand outside myself.

My mystery is simple: I don't know how to be alive. - Because you only know, or only knew, how to be alive through pain.

Desculpai-me mas vou continuar a falar de mim que sou meu desconhecido, e ao escrever me surpreendo um pouco pois descobri que tenho um destino. Quem já não se perguntou: sou um monstro ou isto é ser uma pessoa?

Living leaves me atremble.

he thinks that flowers are hauntingly delicate like a sigh of nobody in the dark.

Look, haven't you noticed, none of your questions have answers?

That night I'd already had quite a bit to drink. I wandered from bar to bar, until, excessively happy, I was afraid I'd outdo myself: I'd grown too comfortable in my own skin. I was looking for a way to pour some of myself out, before I completely overflowed

Though I sometimes scream: I no longer want to be I! but I stick to myself and inextricably there forms a tessitura of life.