Quotes About Introspection

I hope I'm not so small-souled as to take satisfaction in being missed.

They walked side by side along the dark beach toward Monterey, where the lights hung, necklace above necklace against the hill. The sand dunes crouched along the back of the beach like tired hounds, resting: and the waves gently practiced at striking, and hissed a little. The night was cold and aloof, and its warm life was withdrawn, so that it was full of bitter warnings to man that he is alone in the world, and alone among his fellows; that he has no comfort owing him from anywhere.

He lived in a strange, silent house and looked out of it through calm eyes. He was a stranger to all the world, but he was not lonely.

At such a time it seems natural and good to me to ask myself these questions. What do I believe in? What must I fight for and what must I fight against?

Who in his mind has not probe the dark water?

But to find where you are going, you must know where you are, and I didn't.

There seemed to be no cure for loneliness save only being alone.

Perhaps that might be the way to write this book--to open the page and to let the stories crawl in by themselves.

And now the group was welded to one thing, one unit, so that in the dark the eyes of the people were inward, and their minds played in other times, and their sadness was like rest, like sleep.

A man, after he has brushed off the dust and chips of his life, will have only the hard, clean questions: Was it good or was it evil? Have I done well--or ill?

Does anyone ever know even the outer fringe of another? What are you like in there? Mary-do you hear? Who are you in there?

Perhaps it is so with everyone, that he looks for weakness in the strong to find promise of strength in his weakness.

It's hard to split a man down the middle and always to reach for the same half.

You're growing up. Maybe that's it," he said softly. "Sometimes I think the world tests us most sharply then, and we turn inward and watch ourselves with horror. But that's not the worst. We think everybody is seeing into us. Then dirt is very dirty and purity is shining white.

All this is a preface to the fear and uncertainties which clamber over a man so that in his silly work he thinks he must be crazy because he is so alone.

Now what the hell do you suppose is eatin' them two guys?

Do you take pride in your hurt?" Samuel asked. "Does it make you seem large and tragic?" "I don't know." "Well, think about it. Maybe you're playing a part on a great stage with only yourself as audience.

There's a part of you missing. Some men can't see the color green, but they may never know they can't. I think you are only a part of a human. I can't do anything about that. But I wonder whether you ever feel that something invisible is all around you. It would be horrible if you knew it was there and couldn't see it or feel it.

Man hates something in himself. He has been able to defeat every natural obstacle but himself he cannot win over unless he kills every individual. And this self-hate which goes so closely in hand with self-love is what I wrote about. - in a letter to George Albee

St. Paul has just closed his book. His finger marks the last page read and on his face are the wonder and will to understand after the book is closed. Maybe understanding is possible only after.

No story has power, nor will it last, unless we feel in ourselves that it is true and true of us. What a great burden of guilt men have!' Samuel said to Adam, 'And you have tried to take it all.' Lee said, 'So do I, so does everyone. We gather our arms full of guilt as though it were precious stuff. It must be that we want it that way.

Can a man think out his life, or must he just tag along?

What are you looking for, little man? Is it yourself you're trying to identify?Are you looking at little things to avoid big things?

She felt hurt that he had agreed so easily. And she laughed sourly at herself that she could ask a thing and be hurt when she got it.