Quotes About Introspection

I preferred not to respond. (Although several replies occurred to me.)

dizzied, thrilled, depressed by remembering...

I prefer to not say anything, she wrote, there's no point adding to the pain, or adding our own little mysteries to it. As if the pain itself were not enough of a mystery, as if the pain were not the (mysterious) answer to all mysteries.

Sobre la felicidad no dijo una palabra, supongo que porque la consideraba algo estrictamente privado y acaso, ¿cómo llamarlo?, pantanoso o movedizo

Ovo je moj poslednji izveštaj sa planete monstruma. Nikada više ne?u da zaronim u more književnog sranja. Ubudu?e ?u skromno da pišem pesme i radi?u da ne bih umro od gladi i ne?u pokušavati da objavljujem.

Y sin embargo cuando hablamos, digamos, cuando hablamos de hombre a hombre. Suena horrible, pero ese es el nombre de ese tipo de conversación crepuscular. Me dejo entender que estaba allí para hacerse matar, que supongo no es lo mismo que estar allí para matarte o para suicidarte. El matiz está en que no te tomas la molestia de hacerlo tu mismo

Como somos tortuosos. Como parecemos ou nos mostramos simples diante dos outros e no fundo como somos tortuosos. Que pouquinha coisa nós somos e de que maneira tão espetacular nos contorcemos diante de nós mesmos e diante dos outros (...). E tudo isso pra quê? Para ocultar o quê? Para fazer crer o quê?

Adelante, dije, pero de inmediato añadí: no, espera, déjame respirar, que era como decir déjame mirar mi cuarto, mi casa, la cara de mis padres por última vez.

You have to change. You have to turn yourself around and change. You have to know how to look even if you don't know what you're looking for.

Her silence wasn't unpleasant, not did it imply resentment or sadness. It was transparent, not dense. It took up almost no space.

Amalfitano began to weep. His little house, his parched yard, the television set and the video player, the magnificent northern Mexico sunset, struck him as enigmas that carried their own solutions with them, inscribed in chalk on the forehead. It's all so simple and so terrible, he thought. Then he got up from his faded yellow sofa and closed the curtains.

Una risa que me empujaba a salir huyendo de su lado y que al mismo tiempo me proporcionaba la certeza de que no existía ningún lugar adonde pudiera huir.

She was just a sad girl, I think, lost now among the multitudes.

When you know something, you know it, and when you don't, you'd better learn. And in the meantime, you should keep quiet, or at least speak only when what you say will advance the learning process.

El problema con la literatura, como con la vida, dice don Crispín, es que al final uno siempre termina volviéndose un cabrón.

For a moment I thought he was going to cry, but suddenly, before he said anything, I realized that I'd be the one who cried, that inevitably, it would be me who cried.

Estar solos es, básicamente, viajar

Ésta es mi última transmisión desde el planeta de los monstruos. No me sumergiré nunca más en el mar de mierda de la literatura.

mostanában észrevettem magamon egy nyugtalanító tendenciát, elfogadom a dolgokat olyannak, amilyenek.

Mi poema se llama "Todos sufren". No me importa que me miren.

prefiero el ritual de la nada.

One never knows anything about one's father. A father ... is a passageway immersed in the deepest darkness, where we stumble blindly seeking a way out.

With every day that passes I am more convinced that the act of writing is a concious act of humility.

That something merely happens is pointless. But that something happens and a watching eye gathers it into itself is everything.