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Introspection Quotes

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Introspection Quotes

“Freedom guides our actions in powerful ways. I hadn't been so much under the external control of other people as my own rigid belief system. The one that told me to conform to a set of rules. I hadn't even thought through and honestly considered whether it was a good choice or not.”

ChoicesFreedomBehaviorPersonal GrowthDecision MakingSelf DeterminationIntrospectionSensitivityAutonomyHsp
Book:Mere Sense: A Memoir of Men, Migraine, and the Mysteries of Being Highly Sensitive
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“Now, it’s undeniably true that male writers (including yours truly) are generally and commercially allowed to write about “girl stuff” without being penalized for doing so. In part this is the same old shit it’s always been ... I’ve said before that men who write mostly about men win prizes for revealing the human condition, while women who write about both men and women are filed away as writing “womens’ issues.” Likewise, in fantasy, the imprimatur of a dude somehow makes stuff like romance, relationship drama, introspection, and adorable animal companions magically not girly after all. In a sense, we male fantasists are allowed to be like money launderers for girl cooties." [Game of Thrones and Invisible Cootie Vectors (blog post, March 30, 2014)]”

RelationshipsFantasyFeminismEmpowermentEqualityHuman ConditionIntrospectionSoap OperasCootiesWomens Issues
Author:Scott Lynch
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“No person is more ruthlessly cheated than someone strip-mined of his or her ability to recall the vibrancy of the past. After all, what would any person be if robbed of all sense of long-term memory? Without memories, all that any person would know about life is if he or she was hungry or thirsty, cold or hot. Without memories of the past and shredded of any illusion of a future there cannot be a frame for our existence. Without a sense of memory, we lack cognition of the very essence of our being. In absence of our memories, there can be no introspection, no ethical awareness, and no devotion, loyalty, or love.”

LoveMemoriesAwarenessMemoryLoyaltyDevotionIntrospectionRememberingMemories QuotesMemory QuoteReminiscenceRecollections
Book:Dead Toad Scrolls
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“Then again, in the early morning hours, when the world outside whispers of slumber, my fingers still trace the outline of a memory. He rests there, in that blind spot between the everyday, when his presence feels most palpable, engraved on the half of the bed that remains unforgivingly empty. What a paradox of loss, this heightened sense of him in the heart of his absence.”

LoveLossMissingLongingMemoryParadoxIntrospectionPsychological FictionLyrical Prose
Book:We Are Everyone
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“The Poetry that Searches Poetry that paints a portrait in words, Poetry that spills the bottled emotions, Gives life to the feelings deep inside, Breaks through all the times wept, To sweep you in a whirling ecstatic delight. The chiseled marble of language, The paint spattered canvas, Where colors flow through words, Where emotions roll on a canvas, And it all begins with you. The canvas that portrays the trembling you, Through the feelings that splash, Through the words that spatter, All over the awaiting canvas. Such is the painting sketched with passion, Colored with the heart's unleashed emotions. The poetry that reads your trembling heart, The poetry that feeds the seed of your dreams, That poetry that reveals light within rain, Takes you to a place where beauty lies in stain. The poetry that whispers- "May you find the stars, in a night so dark, May you find the moon, so rich with silver, May you sip the madness and delight In a night berserk with a wailing agony". Such words that arise from spilling emotions, So recklessly you fall, in love with life again. So, you rise shedding your fears, To chase after your dreams, As you hear thunder in the rain, That carries your pain, Through the painting of words, colored with courage, Splashed with ferocity, amidst the lost battles. Such is the richest color splash in words, Laid down on papers, that stayed so empty, For ages and ages. At times, you may feel lost, Wandering homeless in the woods, But poetry that you write, To drink the moonlight and madness, Poetry that you spill on a canvas with words, Calls you to fall, for life again. The words that evoke the intense emotions, The painting that gives the richest revelation, The insight that deepens in a light so streaming, Is the poetry that reveals the truth and beauty, In a form so elemental, in a way so searching, For a beauty so emotive, Which trembles, With the poetry's deepest digging. The words that take your eyes to sleep, The poetry that stills your raging feelings, Is the portrait of words that carries you, In emotions bottled within, held so deep, For an era so long. Forgotten they seemed, yet they arose, With the word's deepest calling, To the soul sleeping inside. The poetry that traces your emotions with words, Is a poetry that traces your soul with its lips, To speak a language that your heart understands. The Ecstatic Dance of Soul Copyright 2020 Jayita Bhattacharjee”

LoveLifeLossPoemDepthIntrospection
Author:Jayita Bhattacharjee
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“There has never been a moment in one's life when one might not have stumbled upon this strange reality. What am I doing, where am I so hurriedly running, what is my objective, this whole world is a rat race and I'm going no where, with out any goal, Isn't it?. This thought comes to me very often. Alas! what to do, don't know what and where to knock the door and experience reality. No sooner that i try, I'm again fallen into the dismal depths of abyss, into the worldly affairs””

MeditationThoughtsEcstasyIntrospectionHigher Self
Author:Ramana Pemmaraju
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“I mean No is power. No says, "I'm in charge." Think about how many times you've said yes in the past year, and how many times you would've liked to have said no instead. Maybe being able to say no is the one thing that keeps us sane. Some people go through their whole lives saying yes over and over again--yes to things they don't want to do but feel obliged to; yes to things that allow other people to take advantage of them, just because that's the way things are, the way things have always been. Some people need to learn how to say no. Because every time they say yes, they say no to themselves.”

PowerThoughtsObligationIntrospectionYes And No
Book:Yes Man
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“This strong and rough man, whose feathers were constantly being ruffled, had suddenly softened and brightened. Something unusual and entirely unexpected had begun to stir in his soul. Three years of separation, three years of a broken marriage had dislodged nothing from his heart. And perhaps every day of those three years he had dreamed of her, of the beloved being who had once said 'I love you' to him. Knowing Shatov, I can say for certain that he would never have allowed himself even to dream that any woman could say 'I love you' to him. He was fiercely chaste and modest, regarded himself as a dreadful freak, hated his own face and character, compared himself to some monster who was fit only to be taken around and exhibited at fairs. As a consequence of all this, he valued honesty above all things and dedicated himself to his convictions to the point of fanaticism; he was sullen, proud, quick to anger and sparing with words.”

LovePsychologyEmotionalLongingConvictionVulnerabilityModestyIntrospectionLiteraryCharacter Study
Book:Demons
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“This strong and rough man, whose feathers were constantly being ruffled, had suddenly softened and brightened. Something unusual and entirely unexpected had begun to stir in his soul. Three years of separation, three years of a broken marriage had dislodged nothing from his heart. And perhaps every day of those three years he had dreamed of her, of the beloved being who had once said 'I love you' to him. Knowing Shatov, I can say for certain that he would never have allowed himself even to dream that any woman could say 'I love you' to him. He was fiercely chaste and modest, regarded himself as a dreadful freak, hated his own face and character, compared himself to some monster who was fit only to be taken around and exhibited at fairs. As a consequence of all this, he valued honesty above all things and dedicated himself to his convictions to the point of fanaticism; he was sullen, proud, quick to anger and sparing with words. But now this single being who had loved him for two weeks (he had always, always believed that!), this being whom he had always regarded as immeasurably superior to himself despite his utterly sober understanding of her faults; this being whom he could forgive everything, everything (of which there really true, so that in his eyes he himself was guilty of everything could be absolutely no before her), this woman, this Marya Shatova, was suddenly question, for just the opposite was actual again in his house, before him again... this was almost impossible to understand!”

LovePsychologyEmotionalLongingConvictionVulnerabilityModestyIntrospectionLiteraryCharacter Study
Book:Demons
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“My life feels like a dream that has already ended. There's nothing to fear and nothing to rejoice about. I should feel happy, but instead, I feel nothing. Lately, I experience a profound sense of emptiness. This void is unmistakable, even when I try to convince myself otherwise. It is beautiful, boundless, full yet empty. Now I've come to understand what people mean about memories—whether they are good or bad, they always leave you feeling a bit more empty afterward. After an ending, there's just a long stretch of time where it seems everything has concluded and nothing new will ever begin. Maybe there is no path back to a lost paradise.”

MemoriesLongingNostalgiaEmptinessMelancholyVoidExistentialIntrospectionParadise LostDreamlike
Author:Rolf van der Wind
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“It is doubtful if any only child is to be envied, for the only child is bound to become introspective; having no one of its own ilk in whom to confide, it is apt to confide in itself. It cannot be said that at seven years old the mind is beset by serious problems, but nevertheless it is already groping, may already be subject to small fits of dejection, may already be struggling to get a grip on life—on the limited life of its surroundings. At seven there are miniature loves and hatreds, which, however, loom large and are extremely disconcerting. There may even be present a dim sense of frustration, and Stephen was often conscious of this sense, though she could not have put it into words. To cope with it, however, she would give way at times to sudden fits of hot temper, working herself up over everyday trifles that usually left her cold. It relieved her to stamp and then burst into tears at the first sign of opposition. After such outbursts she would feel much more cheerful, would find it almost easy to be docile and obedient. In some vague, childish way she had hit back at life, and this fact had restored her self-respect.”

LifeChildrenDepressionFrustrationTemperIntrospectionTemper TantrumsDejectionOnly Children
Book:The Well Of Loneliness
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