Quotes About Introspection

It is always nice to see the synapses clicking in a way that lets you know your opinion of yourself is sometimes justified.

But as I look around me at all the absurdly expensive fuss and clutter, I ask it anyway. How did I get here?

THERE ARE MANY ASPECTS OF HUMAN EXISTENCE that I will never understand, and I don't just mean intellectually. I mean that I lack the ability to empathize, as well as the capacity to feel emotion.

Nothing else loves me, or ever will. Not even—especially—me. I know what I am and that is not a thing to love.

And as the night dragged on, so did the terrible, dreary introspection. Had I been misleading myself my entire life?

And on the trip home, with brand-new shiny silver bands on her teeth, she was just as silent, but more aggressively so.

I began to wonder if perhaps I was still lying somewhere, tied up and drugged, and hallucinating all this. The idea was very comforting—but my stomach was growling, and my chest hurt where Debs had poked me, and I realized that something so unpleasant was probably true, and that meant I had to deal with it.

Loneliness is an art form

But we all have moments when we must listen in tears to the silence of the swarming path inside ourselves.

I'm really not the cold fish everyone thinks I am.

The young woman shrugged, walked to her computer, picked it up. She flopped down on the couch and scanned through it. This was something else I'd noticed that my principals had done more and more recently, in the safe house and halfway motels: withdrawn into their cyberwombs. Joanne

He was becoming aware that there was no such thing as over-the-top with Lawrence Davenport, as long as you were talking to Lawrence Davenport about Lawrence Davenport.

stop for a drink, which made him feel

I find I don't learn a lot while I'm talking

sometimes an abundance of sympathy can be more overwhelming than solitude. Giles

longer looking at the

I don't know," sighed

Over supper of a bowl of Heinz tomato soup and a sausage roll, he went over again and

sometimes an abundance of sympathy can be more overwhelming than solitude.

was asking himself long before he'd

The mind self-edits. The mind airbrushes. It's a different thing to be inside a body than outside. From outside, you can look, inspect, compare. From inside there is no comparison.

What lingered after them was not life, which always overcomes natural death, but the most trivial list of mundane facts: a clock ticking on a wall, a room dim at noon, and the outrageousness of a human being thinking only of herself.

He remained heartbroken, which meant one of two things: either his love was pure and true and earthshakingly significant; or he was addicted to feeling forlorn, he liked being heartbroken.

The lover`s discourse was of an extreme solitude. The solitude was extreme because it wasn`t physical. It was extreme because you felt it while in the company of the person you loved. It was extreme because it was in your head, the most solitary of places.