Quotes About Introspection

Sometimes at night I conduct interviews with myself. What do you want? I don't know. What do you want? I don't know. What seems to be the problem? Just leave me alone.

But she is tired all the time now. She can feel how slowly she is walking, as if the air itself is something to be reckoned with.

Sometimes I find myself having little conversations in my head with the punk rock kids upstairs.

How about this motherfucking darkness?

Withdrawal to the desert is called anachoresis in Greek.

But now it seems possible that the truth about getting older is that there are fewer and fewer things to make fun of until finally there is nothing you are sure you will never be.

She thinks before she acts. Or more properly, she thinks instead of acts. A character flaw, not a virtue.

There is still such crookedness in my heart. I had thought loving two people so much would straighten it.

I don't understand you. I can't treat myself like a hurdy-gurdy from which I can take out an unpopular piece and put in a tune that everybody is whistling.

Bartholine was not of their kind. She had no interest in the affairs of the fields and the stables, no taste for the dairy and the kitchen — none whatever. She loved poetry. She lived on poems, dreamed poems, and put her faith in them above everything else in the world.

What can it be, do you think? A hidden nerve that's given way? Or something we have failed in or sinned against in ourselves, perhaps—who knows? A soul is such a fragile thing, and no one knows how far the soul extends in a human being. We ought to be good to ourselves—

All had suddenly lost their taste for vainglory and pride, they consigned these vices to the lowest circle of hell and would scarcely have believed even God had He assured them that just days before they themselves had ignominiously flaunted them; they were pious once more, wearing their meanest clothes and holding their old, despised rosaries in their hands, altogether convinced that they had always been like this, and if God Himself was not convinced, it was not for their want of trying.

He who thinks and thinks for himself, will always have a claim to thanks; it is no matter whether it be right or wrong, so as it be explicit. If it is right, it will serve as a guide to direct; if wrong, as a beacon to warn.

A man may as well expect to grow stronger by always eating as wiser by always reading.

Books support us in our solitude and keep us from being a burden to ourselves.

Michael Ryan seemed a very nice chap to me. He was pleasant enough, but he appeared to be someone who wasn't getting to grips with life.

All things considered, wisdom requires not only the investigation of many things, but contemplation of the mystery.

I've never had a desire to be famous. Lots of actors are actually extremely shy. I have shy areas.

But my social circle had dwindled. Hell, all I had was a social dot—just me on a one man continuum.

I considered sex work, but then I bent over and looked at my asshole in a mirror. Nobody was going to pay me for access to that thing.

Lucy wondered where she might be at that exact moment if she hadn't spent so much time trying to be the right version of herself for those around her.

I am an introvert, but I hate solitude. I do now, at least. The quiet of it. My inner voice, without external input, can get lost in chaos.

A celibate, like the fly in the heart of an apple, dwells in a perpetual sweetness, but sits alone, and is confined and dies in singularity.

You can't help what you feel." "I can try harder to feel something different.