Quotes About Introspection

If it troubles us it must be that we find the trouble in ourselves.

How can we live without our lives? How will we know it's us without our past? No. Leave it. Burn it.

I wonder about people who say they haven't time to think. For myself, I can double think. I find that weighing vegetables, passing the time of day with customers, fighting or loving Mary, coping with the children-- none of these prevents a second and continuing layer of thinking, wondering, conjecturing. Surely this must be true of everyone. Maybe not having time to think is not having the wish to think.

Young Henry was conscious, this night, that he had lived for fifteen tedious years without accomplishing any single thing of importance. And had his mother known his feeling she would have said, 'He is growing.' And his father would have repeated after her, 'Yes, the boy is growing.' But neither would have understood what the other meant.

I can tell all I want about them now because they are all dead and they won't resent the truth about themselves.

Cal's mind careened in anger at himself and in pity for himself. And then a new voice came into it, saying coolly and with contempt, "If you're being honest—why not say you are enjoying this beating you're giving yourself? That would be the truth. Why not be just what you are and do just what you do?" Cal sat in shock from this thought. Enjoying?—of course. By whipping himself he protected himself against whipping by someone else.

He felt a desire to open his body for her inspection, so that she could see all the hidden things in him, even the things he did not know were there.

When a condition or a problem becomes too great, humans have the protection of not thinking about it. But it goes inward and minces up with a lot of other things already there and what comes out is discontent and uneasiness, guilt and a compulsion to get something—anything—before it is all gone.

Midesinin hemen üstünde bir aÄŸr? vard?, tekinsiz bir düÅŸünceyi and?ran bir endiÅŸe. Weltschmerz (Welshrats derdik eskiden), yani dünyan?n kederiydi: Bir gaz gibi yükselerek ruha nüfuz eder, umutsuzluk yayar, öyle ki, neden kaynakland???n? arar, bulamaz insan.

Well, think about it. Maybe you're playing a part on a great stage with only yourself as audience.

kind of tough on you divin' and drinkin'. Got to.

Cuando un hombre dice que no quiere hablar de algo, suele significar generalmente que no puede pensar en nada más.

Lo valioso siempre está oculto en la mente solitaria de un hombre

If only I wouldn't take this book so seriously. It is just a book after all, and a book is very dead in a very short time. And I'll be dead in a very short time too. So the hell with it. Let's slow down, not in pace or wordage but in nerves.

You know pretty well that I don't think of myself as an individual who wants very much. That is why I am not a good nor consecutive seducer. I have the energy and when I think of it, the desires, but I can't reduce myself to a unit from which the necessary formula emanates.

Joad carefully drew the torso of a woman in the dirt, breasts, hips, pelvis. "I wasn't never a preacher," he said. "I never let nothin' go by when I could catch it. An' I never had no idears about it except that I was goddamn glad when I got one.

Kar??mda nadasa b?rak?lm?? koskoca bir arazi duruyor, yan?mda da nadasa b?rak?lm?? koskoca bir adam. Ä°sraf gibi geliyor bana. Ä°srafa gücüm yetmediÄŸi için de kötü bir his verir. Hayat?n? nadasa b?rakmak iyi bir his mi?

The preciousness lies in the lonely mind of a man.

Damn you, I want to think. I'll want to take this off alone where I can pick it apart and see. Maybe you've tumbled a world for me. And I don't know what I can build in my world's place.

De todos los animales de la creación el hombre es el único que bebe sin tener sed, come sin tener hambre y habla sin tener nada que decir.

The problem was I wasn't very good at things. Everybody knows somebody like that. And I was the guy I knew. I wasn't very dependable either. And I guess I didn't smell too good most of the time. I didn't have much going for me, to be honest.

live your way into the answer.1 —RAINER MARIA RILKE'S ADVICE TO A YOUNG POET

Thirty-six years old and he knows less than when he started. With the difference that now he knows how little he'll always know.

We dress our garden, eat our dinners, discuss the household with our wives, and these things make no impression, are forgotten next week; but in the solitude to which every man is always returning, he has a sanity and revelations, which in his passage into new worlds he will carry with him. Never mind the ridicule, never mind the defeat: up again, old heart!