Quotes About Introspection

E ora cosa farò?" si domandava il ragazzo; ogni volta che osservava la mobilità e la continua agitazione della vita, la propria inerzia gli incuteva spavento.

El amor propio es una bestia curiosa que puede dormir aun bajo los golpes más crueles; y luego se despierta, en cambio , herido de muerte por un simple rasguño.

The dark realization came to him that a difficult and miserable age had begun for him, and he couldn't imagine when it would end. [Puberty]

No me interesa lo in, no me obsesiona estar on, no cultivo lo cool, no me fascina lo fashion y mi único must es masturbarme; lo friki me da escalofríos. Lo trendy, temblores.

Is today the day? Am I ready? Am I doing all I need to do? Am I being the person I want to be?

Why is it [the unexamined life] not worth living? The unexamined life does not ponder questions like this: Who am I? Where am I? What ought I to do? What may I hope? The unexamined life does not evaluate alternative futures. It "lives with the flow." The unexamined life hears no evil and sees no evil. It is devoid of critical self-assessment. The unexamined life stifles the breath of reason. It violates a distinctive human capacity.

As persons committed to the examined life, each of us must take a stand on each of these questions--however provisional and preliminary that stand may be.

Wine is a peep-hole on a man.

There is only one corner of the universe you can be certain of improving, and that's your own self.

It is a bit embarrassing to have been concerned with the human problem all one's life and find at the end that one has no more to offer by way of advice than 'try to be a little kinder.'

There's only one corner of the universe you can be certain of improving, and that's your own self.

The more powerful and original a mind, the more it will incline towards the religion of solitude.

I wanted to change the world. But I have found that the only thing one can be sure of changing is oneself.

I like being myself. Myself and nasty.

Having to talk destroys the symphony of silence.

Qué fácil callar, ser serena y objetiva con los seres que no me interesan verdaderamente, a cuyo amor o amistad no aspiro. Soy entonces calma, cautelosa, perfecta dueña de mí misma. Pero con los poquísimos seres que me interesan… Allí está la cuestión absurda: soy una convulsión, un grito, sangre aullando.

Quiero estudiar, quiero aprender, quiero escribir. Tengo veintidós años. No sé nada. Nada fundamental. No sé lo que debería haber aprendido hace muchos años. Nadie me enseñó nada. Sé, en cambio, lo que debería saber mucho después. De allí que me sienta anciana y niña al mismo tiempo.

escribes poemas porque necesitas un lugar en donde sea lo que no es

An unchangeable colour rules over the melancholic: his dwelling is a space the colour of mourning. Nothing happens in it. No one intrudes. It is a bare stage where the inert I is assisted by the I suffering from that inertia. The latter wishes to free the former, but all efforts fail, as Theseus would have failed had he been not only himself but also the Minotaur; to kill him then, he would have had to kill himself

A mi noche no la mata ningún sol.

I don't know about birds nor do I know the history of fire. But I believe that my solitude should have wings

Como quien no quiere la cosa. Ninguna cosa. Boca cosida. Párpados cosidos. Me olvidé. Adentro el viento. Todo cerrado y el viento adentro.

Qué deseaba yo? Deseaba un silencio perfecto. Por eso hablo.

porque yo no pedí nacer en forma de signo de interrogación