Quotes About Introspection

One ascends into profundity, but profundity is nothing but a complication of the shallows, and 'one' is nowhere.

In a period when everyone was being cool in a very adolescent, self-conscious way, Syd was unfashionably outgoing; my enduring memory of our first encounter is the fact that he bothered to come up and introduce himself to me.

I wanted to be alone, not forgotten.

It is always easier to see in another what we are uncomfortable with in ourselves.

Tell your friends not to think aloud Until they swallow.

Jim Morrison tells me that people are looking at the streets while I am looking at the moon. I do not feel connected enough [with the issues] to throw stones at a policeman. I want to throw stones at the whole world.

All creatures are travellers. The most important journeys are the interior ones. The most important and the most hazardous.

She tries to search her heart, but the map is old and the compass is faulty.

She thrust her hands in her pockets and turned her snakestone over and over. She found it helped her think.

I stood there for a long time after he bumped his way over the turf and down the track, until the smell of his exhaust had faded into the trees and soil, and I could hear nothing but the buds. The air smelled like rain.

Hild stared at him, her mind smooth as wax.

I touched my reflection with a fingertip. My reflection felt nothing. That's what I wanted from the world, to feel nothing. To feel nothing and not be involved, for everything to stay comfortably outside myself and not get in. How did people survive all this knowledge of suffering in the world? How did they carry it around, day after day, and not go mad? And what would I wear tomorrow?

If she kept moving, she didn't have to think. She didn't have to see into herself. If she kept moving, no else could see into her, either.

She stepped to one side of her feelings like stepping out of her clothes.

If Hild thought of sides, she thought of plots, of her mother, of Lindsey, its blood, its stink, and the world began to dissolve into a white hiss so that she wanted to step away from her body and become the marble maid again.

Suddenly she was not sure about anything anymore, and that was frightening. If she did not want to do what she had set out to do, then what did she want? Something had changed. Some part of her was gone.

Whatever she did she would find herself thinking of people who weren't there.

We sat silently, contemplating the ghosts we had created between us, and the difference between our world and that of most people.

I'm tired to stupidity. My apologies.

She felt depressed and uncertain, not yet ready to be alone with her new and fragile thoughts.

She liked time at the edge of things-the edge of the crowd, the edge of the pool, the edge of the wood-where all must pass but none quite belonged.

Norway: a solid world aganist which to lay myself and make a mask that could be examined, could be held up in comparison with who I used to be, before.

Silence while we both thought our thoughts.

Artos is afraid of you, and I begin to understand why.