|
b9791d8
|
The heart is an artist that paints over what profoundly disturbs it, leaving on the canvas a less dark, less sharp version of the truth.
|
|
introspective
|
Dean Koontz |
|
226eb20
|
Self is a sea boundless and measureless.
|
|
introspect
limitless
measureless
introspective
endless
inner-life
self
sea
introspection
|
Kahlil Gibran |
|
aade5ed
|
The people had come to witness a sensational case, to see celebrities, to get material for conversation, to be seen, to kill time. They would return to unwanted jobs, unloved families, unchosen friends, to drawing rooms, evening clothes, cocktail glasses and movies, to unadmitted pain, murdered hope, desire left unreached, left hanging silently over a path on which no step was taken, to days of effort not to think, not to say, to forget and give in and give up. But each of them had known some unforgotten moment-a morning when nothing had happened, a piece of music heard suddenly and never heard in the same way again, a stranger's face seen in a bus-a moment when each had known a different sense of living. And each remembered other moments, on a sleepless night, on an afternoon of steady rain, in a church, in an empty street at sunset, when each had wondered why there was so much suffering and ugliness in the world. They had not tried to find the answer and they had gone on living as if no answer was necessary. But each had known a moment when, in lonely, naked honesty, he had felt the need of an answer.
|
|
introspective
|
Ayn Rand |
|
85e8fe6
|
The people they had been last summer, the person she had been--Dicey guessed she'd never be afraid again, not the way she had been all summer. She had taken care of them all, sometimes well, sometimes badly. And they had covered the distances. For most of the summer, they had been unattached. Nobody knew who they were or what they were doing. It didn't matter what they did, as long as they all stayed together. Dicey remembered that feeling, of having things pretty much her own way. And she remembered the feelings of danger. It was a little bit like being a wild animal, she thought to herself. Dicey missed that wildness. She knew she would never have it again. And she missed the sense of Dicey Tillerman against the whole world and doing all right.
|
|
introspective
growing-up
poignant
|
Cynthia Voigt |
|
369f887
|
"I had no room now for this fear, or for any other fear, because I was filled to the brim with music. And even when it was not literally (audibly) music, there was the music of my muscle-orchestra playing -- "the silent music of the body," in Harvey's lovely phrase. With this playing, the musicality of my motion, I myself became the music -- "You are the music, while the music lasts." A creature of muscle, motion and music, all inseparable and in unison with each other -- except for that unstrung part of me, that poor broken instrument which could not join in and lay motionless and mute without tone or tune."
|
|
introspective
poetic
|
Oliver Sacks |