Quotes About Introspection

Whenever two people meet, there are really six people present. There is each man as he sees himself, each man as the other person sees him, and each man as he really is.

Reading, like prayer, remains one of our few private acts

and what if I did drink too much? Whose business is that? Who knows how much I didn't drink?

Fishing, Danny boy, is purely a state of mind. Some men, when they are fishing, are after fish. Me, I'm after things you could never set a barbed hook in.

And, Jake, there's going to be lots in this world you're going to feel bad about. Save your regret for the important things, okay?" Gus

I lay in the dark thinking about the bitterness inside the pig scarer and the sadness that was there, too, and I figured they were probably twins joined at the hip.

And, Jake, there's going to be lots in this world you're going to feel bad about. Save your regret for the important things, okay?

Me, I was growing up scrambling for meaning and I was full of confusion and fear.

down. He realized he hadn't taken a single sip.

It seems to me that when you look back at a life, yours or another's, what you see is a path that weaves into and out of deep shadow.

one of the things a healer knows is that human beings already have within them an understanding of how to heal themselves. Often, all a Mide did was help guide them to this understanding. A sweat was like that, Stephen decided, and he wondered, So what do I already know that I need to understand?

one of the things a healer knows is that human beings already have within them an understanding of how to heal themselves.

If we were perfect, the light he shines on us would just bounce right off. But the wrinkles, they catch the light. And the cracks, that's how the light gets inside us.

You stuff your own closet full of skeletons and you wonder what kind of bones everyone else has stuffed away.

there's going to be lots in this world you're going to feel bad about. Save your regret for the important things, okay?

He looked at his hands. Big hands. How useless a man's hands were, he thought, when it came to fixing the important things."

I had discovered a terrible vulnerability I myself which I think of not as cowardliness but as an ability to imagine too much.

Dear old Uncle Skulky, man, is the impossibly mad relative we all have sleeping in our souls.

We move through time like a man in a rowboat, looking back even as we move forward.

Every father knows the disconcerting when you see your child as a weird, distorted double of yourself. It is as if for a moment your identities overlap. You see an idea, a conception of your boyish inner self...made real and flesh. He is you restarted, rewound; at the same time he is as foreign and unknowable as any other person.

My childhood ended that summer. I learned the word murder. But it is not enough to be told a word as big as that...You have to live with it, carry it around with you. You have to...see it from different angles, at different times of day, in different light, until you understand, until it enters you.

Before, she had this way of focusing on whomever she spoke to, so that you felt you were the most impossibly captivating person in the room; now, her eyes wandered and she seemed not to be in the room herself.

We are all sealed up alone. We all carry the center of the universe inside our own heads. It is, for each of us, a point a few inches behind our eyes where the binocular lines of vision converge. Only a narcissist or a child is fool enough to believe it.

no one worth knowing can be quite known, no one worth possessing can be quite possessed...