Quotes about Introspection

A girl who would fall in love so easily or want a man to love her so easily would probably get over it just as quickly, very little the worse for wear. On the contrary, a girl who would take love seriously would probably be a good while finding herself in love and would require something beyond mere friendly attentions from a man before she would think of him in that light.

She wanted to be alone - to think things out - to adjust herself, if it were possible, to the new world in which she seemed to have been transplanted with a suddenness and completeness that left her half bewildered to her own identity.

What a spineless thing I must be not to have even one enemy!

Am i talking too much? People are always telling me I do. Would you rather I didn't talk? If you say so I'll stop. I can stop when I make up my mind to it, although it's difficult.

No. I don't think I've ever been really lonely in my life," answered Anne. "Even when I'm alone I have real good company — dreams and imaginations and pretendings. I LIKE to be alone now and then, just to think over things and TASTE them.

There's something very solemn about the idea of a new year, isn't there? Just think of three hundred and sixty-five whole days with not a thing happened in them yet.

And she discovered that, while solitude with dreams is glorious, solitude without them has few charms.

Well now, I dunno

Stop a bit and think it over. There do be some knots mighty aisy to tie but the untying is a cat of a different brade.

Have you ever noticed how many different silences there are, Gilbert? The silence of the woods . . . of the shore . . . of the meadows . . . of the night . . . of the summer afternoon. All different because all the undertones that thread them are different. I'm sure if I were totally blind and insensitive to heat and cold I could easily tell just where I was by the quality of the silence about me.

So far, the ordinary observer; an extraordinary observer might have seen that the chin was very pointed and pronounced; that the big eyes were full of spirit and vivacity; that the mouth was sweet-lipped and expressive; that the forehead was broad and full; in short, our discerning extraordinary observer might have concluded that no commonplace soul inhabited the body of this stray woman-child of whom shy Matthew Cuthbert was so ludicrously afraid.

Jane did not like Phyllis. Sometimes Jane thought drearily that there must be something the matter with her when there were so many people she didn't like.