Quotes About Introspection

Inoltre le piaceva guardare la faccia della gente che doveva fare l'esame del sangue, a digiuno. Sembra gente a cui hanno rubato qualcosa, disse.

Jasper Gwyn diceva che tutti siamo qualche pagina di un libro, ma di un libro che nessuno ha mai scritto e che invano cerchiamo negli scaffali della nostra mente. Mi disse che quello che cercava di fare era scrivere quel libro per la gente che andava da lui. Le pagine giuste.

È una di quelle cose che è meglio che non ci pensi, se no ci esci matto. Quando cade un quadro. Quando ti svegli un mattino, e non la ami più. Quando apri il giornale e leggi che è scoppiata la guerra. Quando vedi un treno e pensi io devo andarmene da qui. Quando ti guardi allo specchio e ti accorgi che sei vecchio.

È stato allora che ho perso le mie ultime certezze. Ed è lì che ho finalmente trovato me stesso. Ma non l'ho riconosciuto. - Viscovitz camaleonte, p.106

The next day I discovered that my stupid ex-girlfriend Lara had the same wounds, and so did my sickly and repressed deskmate Jana. They were the same chameleon! It was then I lost my last certainties. And it is there that I finally found myself. But I didn't recognize me.

Maybe we judge people too much by their looks because it's easier than seeing what's really important.

I was just... thinking. That must have been quite an experience for you.

transparent evasion exercises.

I don't mind shaking hands with a human being, are you one?

You're going to spend more time with yourself than with anyone else in your life. You want to spend that whole time fighting who you are?

Everyone can be sick in their soul and still think they're the good guys.

People deceive and play games with themselves. Lying to others is bad, but lying to yourself is hopeless.

I wish I wasn't me.

If you're fucked up in the head there's no explanation. You might think about it one way one minute then two hours later you'll think about it totally different. It's too confusing to even try and put your head around it. Now, can we leave it alone?

We never realise how transparent we are.

It is hard, she thought, it is hard for us to think of people who dislike us because none of us, in our heart, believes that we deserve the hatred of others.

The problem with being me, thought Isabel, as she walked along George IV Bridge, is that I keep thinking about the problem of being me.

It was easy, terribly easy, to become with time a middle-aged spinster with a sharp tongue. She would have to guard against this.

Inside every one of us, thought Mma Ramotswe, there is the child we once were, the child that was unsure about the world and our place in it.

It just did not make sense; unless, of course, as she had suggested, we all have a weak point, an area of intellectual or emotional vulnerability that may be quite out of keeping with out character.

She would give him the benefit of the doubt, as she always did: her experience had taught her that the names we gave to others, and the things we accused them of, often said more about us than they did about them.

He seemed genuinely astonished. You admire me? Yes, she said gravely. All of us do things we regret--that's part of being human. And sometimes, I think, moral quality reveals itself not so much in what we do, but in what we later say about what we have done....

Our heads may be small, but they are as full of memories as the sky may sometimes be full of swarming bees, thousands and thousands of memories, of smells, of places, of little things that happened to us and which come back, unexpectedly, to remind us who we are. And who am I?

You haven't offended me at all. You've made me think. That's all.