Quotes About Introspection

As I stared out of the train window, the scenery became a blur, as unclear as my thoughts and feelings.

When I was young, boys invited in for sex would examine your bookshelves.

The art of reading is to know and understand the things which go unsaid.

a flat. Rishworth, I think he said. I wasn't

The art of reading is to know and understand the things which go unsaid. There is as much to be learned from the spaces between, the empty lines, as there is from the words on the page. I

But it wasn't just the distance. It was what had happened to me since these days, those endless, quiet days when I thought my life would always continue in that way. When my life consisted of small, certain pieces of a larger, but basically simple, puzzle. When I was certain that I always knew where each piece fit.

A thousand thoughts ran through my mind. Well, at least six or seven, anyway, because a thousand thoughts are a lot. Try counting your own thoughts and see how long it takes you to get to a thousand.

Notre planète étant, selon la définition de Stevenson, une île tournoyante chargée de vie rapace, plus ruisselante de sang qu'un navire au lendemain d'une mutinerie, Hanokh Levin sonde les pulsions mortifères, descend dans le sous-sol humain où grouille un monde de lâcheté et de bassesse, tire des choses vues un constat sur le non-sens de nos existences, engluées dans de risibles ambitions. (p. 117)

Silence may be something unusual for her—and it could take time for her to adjust to the possibilities silence provides.

The definition of a spiritual person is someone who makes 30–50 mistakes each day and talks to the Creator after each one to see what to do next time.

She wondered if forgiveness was more like peeling an onion than breaking an egg. That had been top-layer forgiveness. This would be deep forgiveness, boring down to the bedrock, to the taproot, to the core of who she was and what Daniel had done.

I think that if we just listen to ourselves we know what it is we have to do . . . . And I have come o think that however much it hurts, however hard it is, we have to listen. We have to live our lives.

My aloneness had never bothered me; I hadn't even been aware of it. But now it overwhelmed me. The awareness washed over me with painful sharpness and deep grief. Now that I had company.

When the sun dipped behind the wall of trees, we lay down and the white night swallowed us. It has been night ever since.

I regret the way pain has taught me nothing.

I had tried marijuana several times, but in the words of my friend and longtime assistant Janet Stark, "When I smoke pot, it makes me want to hide under the bed with a box of graham crackers and not share.

Learning about our horses is learning about ourselves.

When you're living through an experience, it's hard to imagine yourself outside it. But when you revisit it in a Write, you see yourself in a fuller context, which gives you information you didn't have before

I deserve a year, two years, to live my own self into being." Depressing

I wasn't anybody at all. And I began to get afraid that all at once maybe my eyes would break open like soap bubbles and everybody would see there wasn't anything there, just a vile mess. And I was afraid that maybe the rot inside me would break out in sores and warts, screaming: 'traitor, sinner, imposter.'" Part

Possibly from the outside this looks determinedly individual. Nobody realises what a mess of loneliness and inadequacy I am inside.

I want to be remembered for the work that I've done, rather than the car accidents that I've gotten into, the men that I've not dated - or the man that I have.

Once you go inside and weed through the muck, you will find the real beauty, the truth about yourself.

In my experience, men who sit in corners are the ones to watch.