Quotes About Introspection

Sometimes your best company is you

Now that it's all over, what did you really do yesterday that's worth mentioning?

All there is, is fragments, because a man, even the loneliest of the species, is divided among several persons, animals, worlds. To know a man more than slightly it would be necessary to gather him together from all those quarters, each last scrap of him, and this done after he is safely dead.

He's experienced. He has a mind. He seduced me and took his time doing it. He's good company. He makes me think. Knowing him has changed me forever.

Solitude is a heady wine that intoxicates you with freedom.

You don't think before you do something foolish. You do your thinking afterwards.

The only virtue on which I pride myself is my self-doubt; when a writer loses her self-doubt, the time has come to lay aside her pen.

what an ennobling sadness you lent to my evening's enjoyment.

Minne, pâle comme une nuit de lune, se réchauffe, un peu blessée, à ce feu de couleurs, et parfois, toute nue au soleil, un miroir à la main, cherche en vain, à travers son corps mince, l'ombre plus noire de son squelette élégant.

To write sincerely, almost sincerely! I hope it may bring me relief, that sort of interior silence which follows a sudden utterance, a confession.

Pureté et solitude sont un seul et même malheur.

Today, I dressed my wound, and nursed my hurt in a sheltered place.

Anna O. had a third state as well, which today would be called a hidden observer, internal self helper, or center. This was an entity described as follows: "A clear-sighted and calm observer up sat, as she put it, in a corner of her brain and looked on at all the mad business" [p. 101].

I made the mistake of thinking that condemning other people's misdeeds somehow made me virtuous.

I made the mistake of thinking that condemning other people's misdeed somehow made me virtuous.

It is important to recognize that the mechanism of projection does not just apply to our shadow side. We also project onto other people the things we like about ourselves yet have a hard time acknowledging. Thus we see in those people our own inner beauty, our own creative talent, our own intelligence, and so on.

Their eyes seemed to see another life—a life that was losing clarity and focus. And those beasts that had been there the longest could see only wire mesh and concrete. All memories of the past had drained from them. They sat on their logs and their rocks, their heads slowly scrolling left and right like dementia patients, mesmerized by the passing visitors but not at all interested in

He'd once read (or heard)—Disraeli, was it? (or Jimmy Bowden?)—that a man ought never to apologize; never to explain. He did neither

the coolness of the wall mirror. He

But he'd realized too, at the same time, that his capacity for jealousy was pretty nearly boundless.

I'm past thinking,' said Sarah quietly.

This was exactly why holidays were so valuable, he told himself: they allowed you to stand back a bit, and see where you were going rusty.

It is all my fault! But the blind man when he stumbles over a stone, curses the stone, not the blindness that made him stumble. 17

AÈ™a-i de când lumea, c? cine se introspecteaz? prea mult, acela nu mai e de acord nici cu sine însuÈ™i, în cele din urm?, iar cine nu-i de acord cu sine însuÈ™i, acela nu-i capabil s? ia o hot?râre.