Quotes About Introspection

All of me knelt down. All of me bowed. Inside the chapel of myself, all my candles lit.

I'm at an age now when in the early mornings I'm often revisited by all my own mistakes, stupidities and unintended cruelties. They sit around the edge of the bed and look at me and say nothing. But I see them well enough.

Men are private. This I have learned. They are whole continents of privacy; you can only go to the borders; you can look in but you cannot enter.

I answered Annie's questions about the day outside, about where the electricity crews were, and about myself, which last made dawn on me that it's only when someone asks you about yourself that you exist in the fourth dimension of a story.

Her mind was like a bookcase whose shelves had been pulled away, leaving the books pell-mell. All the stories of her life were in there, only confounded one into the other.

You've still time to go back and right all the mistakes you've made.

Dad moved in with the baffled deepsea shyness of a character just arriving in a story already underway.

I lay blinking in the chastened light as the world condensed to two certainties, one, the jelly of my brain had swollen too large for my skull, the other, I would never again drink alcohol.

Somehow the river is louder when you cover your ears.

reasons too deep to be fished.

There's a book inside you. There's a library inside me.

Again, fix the outsides and maybe my insides won't be such a dark place.

They don't have to struggle like I do - or maybe that's just me comparing my goddamn insides to everyone else's outsides.

And though I have done many shameful things, I am not ashamed of who I am. I am not ashamed of who I am because I know who I am. I have tried to rip myself open and expose everything inside - accepting my weaknesses and strengths - not trying to be anyone else. 'Cause that never works, does it? So my challenge is to be authentic.

Something Like That PARRA LAUGHS like he's condemned to hell but when haven't poets laughed? at least he declares that he's laughing

To analyze is to renounce yourself One can reason only in a circle One sees only what one wants to see Birth solves nothing I admit I'm crying.

Making a shape out of mess, as Jack put it; the instinct in us all, something deeply human and fearful. Glancing

Oh, happiness," said Frieda. "That's not what this is about.

Nobody tells you, when you're young, what it will be like." "What is it like?" "You become like a ghost in your own life.

Frieda felt that her heart was like some old chest that had been heaved up from the seabed, its barnacled lid prized open after all this time. Who knew what treasures she would find inside?

There are days when the younger self accuses you. Is this who you wanted to be? Is this the life you wanted to live? What had happened to the books she had dreamt of writing, the journeys she had planned to take, the person she had thought to become? What had happened to that quiet, stubborn, fierce girl who promised herself freedom and adventure and who thought she could do anything?

Ti stupisci di quanto sei attore. Di come fingi, di come ti imposti con tutti. Forse non senti niente? Forse sei finto fino al midollo? È tutto mediato dall'ipocrisia nella tua vita. Ti sei bruciato dentro, non senti più niente, ti dici. Cerchi di essere triste. Ti viene da ridere.

Le cose, una volta pensate, che bisogno c'è di dirle?

En jij? Jij bent de vreemde hier, je blijft hier komen omdat je niet weet waar je anders naartoe moet, dát is de realiteit, verdorie, eindelijk heb je het tegen jezelf gezegd.