Quotes About Introspection

Look here, old sport, he broke out surprisingly. What's your opinion of me, anyhow? A little overwhelmed, I began the generalized evasions which that question deserves.

I wanted no more riotous excursions with privileged glimpses into the human heart.

We are all queer fish, queerer behind our faces and voices than we want any one to know or than we know ourselves.

Oh, it doesn't get me. I'm pretty well cloistered, and I suppose books mean more than people to me anyway.

I only wanted absolute quiet to think out why I had developed a sad attitude toward sadness, a melancholy attitude toward melancholy and a tragic attitude toward tragedy — why I had become identified with the objects of my horror or compassion.

You will feel your own reflection sliding along the eyes of those who look at you. You are no longer insulated; but I suppose you must touch life in order to spring from it.

But Dick had come away for his soul's sake, and he began thinking about that. He had lost himself--he could not tell the hour when, or the day or the week, the month or the year.

I had taken two finger-bowls of champagne, and the scene had changed before my eyes into something significant, elemental, and profound.

But with every word she was drawing further and further into herself, so he gave that up, and only the dead dream fought on as the afternoon slipped away, trying to touch what was no longer tangible, struggling unhappily, undespairingly, toward that lost voice across the room.

Want any of this stuff? Jordan?... Nick? I didn't answer. Nick? he asked again. What? Want any? No... I just remembered that today's my birthday. I was thirty. Before me stretched the portentous, menacing road of a new decade.

At first I was surprised and confused; then as he lay in his house and didn't move or breathe or speak hour upon hour it grew upon me that I was responsible, because no one else was interested--interested, I mean, with that intense personal interest to which everyone has some vague right at the end.

I don't give a damn about you now, but it was a new experience for me and I felt a little dizzy for a while.

I was looking at it again, through Daisy's eyes. It is invariably saddening to look through new eyes at things upon which you have expended your own powers of adjustment.

What was it up there in the song that seemed to be calling her back inside? What would happen now in the dim, incalculable hours?

A big man has no time really to do anything but just sit and be big.

He wondered idly whether she was a poor conversationalist because she got no attention or got no attention because she was a poor conversationalist.

Begin with an individual, and before you know it you find that you have created a type: begin with a type, and you find that you have created - nothing. That is because we are all queer fish, queerer behind our faces and voices than we want anyone to know or than we know ourselves.

I saw that for a long time I had not liked people and things, but only followed the rickety old pretense of liking. I saw that even my love for those closest to me was become only an attempt to love, that my casual relations — with an editor, a tobacco seller, the child of a friend, were only what I remembered I should do, from other days.

Bao gi? mà ch?ng th?y bu?n khi nhìn l?i nh?ng gì mình Ä'ã quá quen thuá»™c b?ng má»™t con m?t khác.

Suddenly I wasn't thinking of Daisy or Gatsby anymore, but of this clean, hard, limited person, who dealt in universal skepticism, and who leaned back jauntily just within the circle of my arm.

Oh, such a shame, such a shame. Oh, such a shame. What's it all about anyhow?" "I've wondered for a long time." "But why bring it to me?" "I guess I'm the Black Death," he said slowly. "I don't seem to bring people happiness any more.

calmness wasn't an end in itself

Flushed with his impassioned gibberish, he saw himself standing alone on the last barrier of civilization.

Yet how bored they both looked, and how wearily Ethel regarded Jim sometimes, as if she wondered why she had trained the vines of her affection on such a wind-shaken poplar.