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Reflective Quotes

Browse 105 quotes about Reflective.

Reflective Quotes

“Hey Sakura? What're your thoughts after listening to Kaji?" "I-I..." "There's a lot I can't do. I do a lot of things that make me look pretty pathetic or lame. But I'm not scared. That's because everyone here will accept me, no matter what I do, so I can do anything without having to worry. That's why I think it's okay for me to do the things that others can't. 'It doesn't matter how stupid they may look', 'I still like him'. Everyone has those close connections. We depend on others and let them depend on us. We forgive them, and they forgive us. That's why we're all together. That's why it's okay, Sakura. Trust Kaji. Trust your friends. And jump right out there with everything you've got!”

“When they got to their hotel she went straight up to bed, but he paused to get a drink. There was, in the vestibule, a flower stall and he bought a handful of roses, stiffly wired into a bouquet, before proceeding to the oppressive gorgeousness of their bridal suite. The lift was lined with looking glass, so that as he shot upwards he got an endlessly duplicated version of himself, stout and nervous, a light cloak flung over his shoulder and flowers in his hand: an infinitely long row of gentlemen carrying offerings to an unforgiving past.”

“He remembered hearing Karl tell James once that it was hard for people to ever know what they really looked like. Reflections in mirrors weren’t accurate, Karl said, because when you stared at yourself in a mirror, you subconsciously composed your face in a way that wasn’t your natural expression. Marvin wondered it that was true when you were with strangers too. Maybe you only looked like your true self with the people you loved. And maybe that was a face you yourself hardly ever got to see…”

“In the dark pre-dawn quiet he lay facing the window by his bed and stared at the stars hanging in the western sky. They floated over the land like the dust of jewels strewn across black water. These stars had become the milestones that marked his coming passage, and he gazed at them this one last time for the sake of preserving a memory, he supposed. One last view through the windowglass of his youth.”

“– Did you know that some machines dream, Otto? The digital chimeras – even without a mouth, I know Orion is smiling. – Before you woke me up, I was dreaming. I dreamed of a human who promises to entwine his girlfriend, and that she would swallow the moon and white lightning would come out from the tips of her hair. This dream has no color, it is in black and white. While you were sleeping in The Rats’ Sewer, I dreamed of a lonely robot who lives collecting forgettings. This dream is colorful, joyful. When I am turned off, I can see things that don’t exist.”

“The “facts” about Ali’s life are few, and come from Wallace’s writing. Wallace was a careful writer, but he naturally wrote through his own perceptions, memories, and filters.”

“When lunchtime comes, as always, I run to Library 1.2. I run my fingers along the edges of the books and follow the path to the romance section, looking for the seventeenth book in the ninth row of the third shelf. This is my routine and I adore every moment of it. One of the pages of the book is different from the rest; it was glued in to replace the original page, which had been torn out. On the patched page, I find my favorite passage from the story. I sit on the floor and read. “How’s the patient?” he asked Derby. “Dead to the world.” “But not actually dead.” “No.” “How nice—to feel nothing, and still get full credit for being alive.” I close the book and think of my best friend. How I wish he were here to see everything we achieved together. So he could see how our mission changed the lives of hundreds of thousands of people. I wanted to see the look of joy in his eyes as we admired together the demolition of the Wall. Of all the wishes, I wanted to talk to him about rhymes and metrics, sonnets and quatrains, about all the things I’ve been learning at school. Sometimes, the longing hits so hard that I feel as if part of me died with him. As if part of my soul went with Mário, because I’ve never felt complete, whole, again. I feel broken, old scrap. I know Mário wanted to bring change to Redentor, but there are times when I feel it wasn’t worth it. I know it’s selfish, but I would trade all this sea of smiles on strangers’ faces to have a life by my friend’s side. I know he sacrificed himself for the good of all, but I allow myself to be a little selfish. Just a little. Two of the few things I asked for after my participation in the revolution were Firstborn's box and Mário’s chip. At first, many came to me, trying to convince me to engage in political struggle, to be a poster boy, but my mother didn’t allow it. He’s going to school, she said. His mission is over. Now, he’s going to be a child. I like that my mother protects me from the adult world. And all I want is to be a normal boy and live my days peacefully. I no longer want to be involved in shootouts, explosions, and revolutions, of that I’m sure. But she’s wrong about one thing: my mission is not over yet. It all began with Mário by my side, and it will only end with him by my side again. Every night, before sleeping, I fiddle and tinker with the insides of that computer, just waiting to see that red light turn on and the sides of the lenses spin in processing. So far, all I’ve gotten are some light shocks. Even old Jeremias has already said the chip is completely broken, beyond repair. I refuse to give up. – Today’s the day – I say to myself as I unscrew the computer. I replace the old wiring with new ones, clean the processor and run the chip through an advanced recovery system. I work for two hours hunched over the table. I plug the machine in and press the button. Nothing. Zero. Absolutely nothing. I sigh. I don’t let discouragement or despair take hold of me. Tomorrow, I will continue. And if tomorrow the red light doesn’t turn on, I’ll try the day after tomorrow. And after that, and after that, and after that. I will work until there’s no more tomorrow. “Everything works out in the end. If it’s not right, it’s because it’s not the end yet.” It was a robot who liked poetry who taught me: That's how life works.”

“C10 (or the king's carolers – from student times) on the side stairway, we gather in the evening, many the cold cement steps welcome us as if we were the king's carolers we have mulled wine and dry snacks the orange guitar stretches and warps in the candlelight we take another drag from the cigarette, nibble on sticks and salty biscuits happiness pricks our veins with Burmese nails One floor below, behind the door 'Mr. Blues - Don't Disturb' the tasty rot of jazz caresses our toes We sin in thought, our minds dangling from the railing later, the Serbs come to sing with us Golden-haired like gods from a bombed country we scratch the wall with our nails, don’t know what to say they bring us wafers with fruits and chocolate wrapped in green foil the second evening we gather again on the side stairway with the same mulled wine and dry snacks and the same us the old rockers hanging heavy on the guitar’s body at the midnight office.”