Quotes about Introspection
Contemplatives are not likely to become gamblers, or procurers, or drunkards; they do not as a rule preach intolerance, or make war; do not find it necessary to rob, swindle or grind the faces of the poor.
— Aldous Huxley
He liked to think of himself as a merciless vivisector probing into the palpitating entrails of his own soul.
— Aldous Huxley
After all, what is an individual?
— Aldous Huxley
After all, what is an individual?
— Aldous Huxley
The sum of evil, Pascal remarked, would be much diminished if men could only learn to sit quietly in their rooms.
— Aldous Huxley
If I only knew who in fact I am, I should cease to behave as what I think I am; and if I stopped behaving as what I think I am, I should know who I am.
— Aldous Huxley
I, real I? But where, but how, but at what price?
— Aldous Huxley
I looked down by chance, and went on passionately staring by choice, at my own crossed legs," the writer and philosopher recollected. "Those folds in the trousers ? what a labyrinth of endlessly significant complexity! And the texture of the gray flannel ? how rich, how deeply, mysteriously sumptuous.
— Aldous Huxley
I looked down by chance, and went on passionately staring by choice, at my own crossed legs," the writer and philosopher recollected. "Those folds in the trousers ? what a labyrinth of endlessly significant complexity! And the texture of the gray flannel ? how rich, how deeply, mysteriously sumptuous.
— Aldous Huxley
Turning to God without turning from self' - the formula is absurdly simple; and yet, simple as it is, it explains all the follies and iniquities committed in the name of religion.
— Aldous Huxley
I'm feeling miserable . . . There was no self-pity in his tone, no appeal for sympathy ? only the angry matter-of-factness of a Stoic who has finally grown sick of the long farce of impassibility and is resentfully blurting out the truth.
— Aldous Huxley
It is because we don't know who we are, because we are unaware that the Kingdom of Heaven is within us, that we behave in the generally silly, the often insane, and sometime criminal ways that are so characteristically human.
— Aldous Huxley