#reflection

...I see myself at crossroads in my life, mapless, lacking bits of knowledge - then, the Moon breaks through, lights up the path before me... ↗

— John Geddes

#knowledge #life #lights #mapless-life #moon

Living in a way that reflects one's values is not just about what you do, it is also about how you do things. ↗

— Deborah Day

#reflection #values #life

Every day I add to the list of things I refuse to discuss. The wiser the man, the longer the list. ↗

— Nicolas Chamfort

#philosophy-of-life #reflections #life

Why are all reflections lovelier than what we call reality? -- not so grand or so strong, it may be, but always lovelier? Fair as is the gliding sloop on the shining sea, the wavering, trembling, unresting sail below is fairer still...All mirrors are magic mirrors. The commonest room is a room in a poem when I turn to the glass...There must be a truth involved in it, though we may but in part lay hold of the meaning. ↗

— George MacDonald

#mirror #reflection #truth #life

Anybody looking for a quiet life has picked the wrong century to born in. ↗

— Whitaker Chambers

#twentieth-century #life

I thought of all the hardships and people that I had lost in the past few days alone, but, most of all, I thought of how I didn't regret any of it. ↗

— Shannon A. Thompson

#life-lessons #loss #pride #reflection #regret

I have begun to wonder where I came from. The person I am now, this fumbling, stumbling supplicant... was I built on the foundations of my old life, or did I rise from the grave a blank state? How much of me is inherited, and how much is my own creation? Questions that were once just idle musings have begun to feel strangely urgent. Am I firmly rooted to what came before? Or can I choose to deviate? ↗

— Isaac Marion

#life #philosophical-musings #reflection #life

Love your Enemies, for they tell you your Faults. ↗

— Benjamin Franklin

#enemies #self-reflection #love

He finds he cannot think of the dying men at all. Into his mind instead strays the picture of More on the scaffold, seen through the veil of rain: his body, already dead, folding back neatly from the impact of the axe. The cardinal when he fell had no persecutor more relentless than Thomas More. Yet, he thinks, I did not hate him. I exercised my skills to the utmost to persuade him to reconcile with the king. And I thought I would win him, I really thought I would, for he was tenacious of the world, tenacious of his person, and had a good deal to live for. In the end he was his own murderer. He wrote and wrote and he talked and talked, then suddenly at a stroke he cancelled himself. If ever a man came close to beheading himself, Thomas More was that man. ↗

— Hilary Mantel

#reflection #men

It was all he'd felt for too long to change now. Maybe it was too late for any other kind of life. This was all he knew. It was safe, insulated. Familiar. An absense of emotion kept him sane. Or what passed for it. ↗

— Virginia Brown

#reflection #change