Quotes About Introspection

Its a little like looking at yourself looking in a mirror looking at yourself looking in a mirror.

A book, to me, is almost sacrosanct: such an individual and private thing. The reader brings his or her own history and beliefs and concerns, and reads in solitude, creating each scene from his own imagination as he does.

A veces es más fácil recuperar los recuerdos perdidos y los sueños olvidados no pensando en ellos.

The noise level subsided, as if people were distracted with

He laughed a little, but the laughter was not lighthearted. His thoughts seemed to be elsewhere, and his eyes were very troubled.

The reader brings his or her own history and beliefs and concerns, and reads in solitude, creating each scene from his own imagination as he does.

It was a question she did not want to be asked. When she asked it of herself, she didn't like her own answer.

What you are is a question only you can answer.

I am not schizoid. A little manic-depressive, maybe. 'Know thyself.' We try, sir.

People give themselves to you, in their talking, and in other ways, if you are quiet and patient and let them, and not in such a damned rush to give yourself to them you go bat-blind and deaf.

I had to discover and teach myself all kinds of tricks to get people to respond to the inside of me, and not the outside.

Her smile grew bitter as desert brine. The gods may forgive Ista all day long. But if Ista does not forgive Ista, the gods may go hang themselves.

He didn't think he was edging into dementia. He suspected he was edging into sanity, the long way around. The hard way.

God save me from another such victory.

All her old thoughts seemed as thin and ragged as a piece of knitting made and ripped out and made and ripped out again until all the threads were frayed, growing ever more worn, but never larger.

The world is ashes and the gods are a horror. Tell me, Learned, what other place is there for me to go?

If you desire a man to tell you comfortable lies about your prowess, and so fetter any hope of true excellence, I'm sure you may find one anywhere. Not all prisons are made of iron bars. Some are made of feather beds.

People are the only mirror we have to see ourselves in. The domain of all meaning. All virtue, all evil, are contained only in people. There is none in the universe at large. Solitary confinement is a punishment in every human culture.

Who am I, when I am not surrounded by the walls of my life? When they have all fallen into dust and rubble?

And . . . do you have any supporting evidence for your explanation of yourself? Certainly. Miles stared thoughtfully into the air, as if about to pull his words from the thinnest part.

From spaceman to caveman in three days, she meditated aloud. How we imagine our civilization is in ourselves, when it's really in our things.

Feared that she was slated to be dragged though all that stale guilt

The last thing a monster wanted was a fellow to follow him around all day long with a mirror.

Could he stop denying himself, and deny others instead? He tested the phrases on his tongue. No, you are wrong, all of you, Temple and Court and folk in the streets. You always were wrong. I am not…am not… what? And are these the only terms I can think in, these shouted nos? Ah, habit.