Quotes About Introspection

She'd convinced herself that Subhash was her rival, and that she was in competition for him for Bela, a competition that felt insulting, unjust. But of course it had not been a competition, it had been her own squandering. Her own withdrawal, covert, ineluctable. With her own hand she'd painted herself into a corner, and then out of the picture altogether

Boeken zijn de beste middelen - privé, discreet, betrouwbaar - om over de werkelijkheid heen te stappen.

C'era una donna, una traduttrice, che voleva essere un'altra persona. Non c'era un motivo chiaro. Era sempre stato così.

Things were different now, of course; those solitary hours he'd once savored had become a prison for him, a commonplace.

Only when things are reread, reexamined, revisited, are they understood: letters, photos, words in dictionaries.

Today when I wake up I stay put. I don't go to the bathroom to weigh myself or to the kitchen to drink a glass of tepid water before preparing the coffeepot. The city doesn't beckon or lend me a shoulder today. Maybe it knows I'm about to leave.

there are times I am bewildered by each mile I have traveled, each meal I have eaten, each person I have known, each room in which I have slept. As ordinary as it all appears, there are times when it is beyond my imagination.

She had generated alternative versions of herself. She had insisted at brutal cost on these conversions. Layering her life, only to strip it bare. Only to be alone in the end. Her life had been paired down to its solitary components.

Solitude demands a precise assessment of time, I've always understood this. It's like the money in your wallet: you have to know how much time you need to kill, how much to spend before dinner, what's left over before going to bed. But time seems different here. My walk took an hour, but to me it felt much longer.

My double, seen from behind, explains something to me: that I'm me and also someone else, that I'm leaving and also staying. This realization momentarily jostles my melancholy, like a current that stirs the branches, that discomfits the leaves of a tree.

in August to celebrate an important anniversary of her in-laws. "I wish I didn't have to go, after three days with them I start to lose it." I almost ask: Isn't that the case with your husband and kids, with your house? Isn't that why you're always traveling, why you leave them behind every other week? I don't say this. I'm fond of my friend, I let her blow off steam. The sun beats down on us and chafes the skin below my sweater.

I libri sono i mezzi migliori - privati, discreti, affidabili - per scavalcare la realtà.

There had been a brittle quality to her, something unyielding, a young person who carried about her a premonition of old age.

the bathroom to weigh myself or to the kitchen to drink a glass of tepid water before preparing the coffeepot. The city doesn't beckon or lend me a shoulder today. Maybe it knows I'm about to leave. The sun's dull disk defeats me; the dense sky is the same one that will carry me away. That vast and vaporous territory, lacking precise pathways, is all that binds us together now. But it never preserves our tracks.

And for the first time in his life, another man's name upset Gogol more than his own.

Why do I write? To investigate the mystery of existence. To tolerate myself. To get closer to everything that is outside of me.

Part of the way that I work is to observe.

I started being me about the songs, not writing objectively, but subjectively. I think it was Dylan who helped me realize that - not by any discussion or anything, but by hearing his work.

It's hard to be objective about your own work.

I think at this point, I'd eventually like to work behind the camera. That's not to say I would never act again, I'm not quite sure to be honest.

My work is an exploration of the self. I've always been concerned with how I'm living and how that reflects in the painting.

When I was a teenager I loved acting, but I really just loved it for myself. I didn't like the fact that anyone else saw the work I was doing

I work better the more I am confined and the less I am distracted. My ultimate place would be a closet.

So rather than someone coming to my stu- dio and saying, like, "Thank you for your time. I'll see you later," and me not knowing why they don't like my work, I understand now why they don't like it.