Quotes About Introspection

I used to care a lot about what other people thought - like teammates.

I feel like I gotta get out of myself sometimes. I think I'm in my own world sometimes. I don't like to let other people come into my own world. Especially with my teammates, my coaches, I should be doing that. The important people that need to know how I'm feeling. I can do a better job of telling them exactly how I feel.

Heaven? Probably not with my behaviors.

Because sometimes, a person can get so caught up in the details that they miss the whole. It's not just the dress or the hair. It's you. You're beautiful. So beautiful, it hurts me

Was that how I appeared? I often thought of myself as a trigger-happy queen bitch and tried to think about my behavior with her these last few days. I had sparred with her a lot, but among the others we'd met, I supposed I had been friendly. Mead, Richelle (2009-08-07). Blood Promise: A Vampire Academy Novel (p. 118). Penguin Young Readers Group. Kindle Edition.

Algunas cosas no necesitan palabras, dice al cabo de un momento, y me pregunto si aún se refiere al sonido. Todo necesita una palabra, insisto. Necesitamos saber cómo describir el mundo. Si no, caeríamos en la ignorancia.

Sometimes I felt as though those eyes could see right into my soul.

In my chest, my own heart was breaking. On my cheek, the lily reminded me who I was.

You know what? As sad as I know this will make you, ladies, I'm going home and to bed. Alone.

Something happened tonight, Etienne. And I need to tell you." Pausing a moment, he scanned her face with narrowed eyes. Then he lowered himself beside her. "Something's changed, hasn't it, cher ?" he murmured. "Yes." "And you've changed with it.

I think the idea of holing up and hunkering down against the larger forces of the world has not lost its allure since Thoreau's time. If anything that instinct, or impulse, continues to reside in almost all of us, sometimes activated or bestirred and other times dormant but always present.

I could not even ask myself how in the fuzzy hell I got here, because I knew precisely how it happened, year by year.

It is easy to tell a stranger's story; I didn't know if I had the guts to tell my own.

Some men were just born beside a river of melancholy. Some men lived a lifetime there.

But I knew, as I staggered down that hill with that awful dog, what the unreliable men in my family have always known: that this ol' life can be a bleak, sorry, boring slog, if you take the time, at every turn, to think it through. { Three } Tough Guys The dog lay in the garage as I cleaned off the mud and old blood with a rag.

To look at those (few) books in the dawning recognition that what they furnish is not a room, but a self.

What is so addictive about fiction is that it is the one reliable place in which we can apprehend and participate in - fully understand - the inward world of another person.

This is a quote

Goldwater's approach to any political problem invariably derived from the evidence of his own eyes.

Some irony. The girl who couldn't face her own bullshit . . . suddenly forcing everyone else to.

To resist the depths of the world's sorrow, the truth of one's heart must be honored.

What is so broken about me? So unlikable? Why does it still hurt?

It's not even the other kids, because fuck them. It's me. My anxiety. I do this thing after I'm around people where I obsessively overanalyze every interaction to see where I went wrong or who I offended.

I was one of those dark, quiet kids that wrote poetry.