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Quotes about Reflection

I am persuaded that a coldly-thought-out and independent verdict upon a fashion in clothes, or manners, or literature, or politics, or religion, or any other matter that is projected into the field of our notice and interest, is a most rare thing -- if it has indeed ever existed.
— Mark Twain
We have reached a little altitude where we may look down upon the Indian Thugs with a complacent shudder; and we may even hope for a day, many centuries hence, when our posterity will look down upon us in the same way.
— Mark Twain
And when it comes to beauty - and goodness too - she lays over them all. I hain't ever seen her since that time that I see her go out of that door; no, I hain't ever seen her since, but I reckon I've thought of her a many and a many a million times, and of her saying she would pray for me; and if ever I'd a thought it would do any good for me to pray for her, blamed if I wouldn't a done it or bust.
— Mark Twain
We don not think, in the holy places; we think in bed, afterwards, when the glare, and the the noise, and the confusion are gone, and in fancy we revisit alone, the solemn monuments of the past, and summon the phantom pageants of an age that has passed away.
— Mark Twain
Not a sparrow falls to the ground without His seeing it. But it falls, just the same. What good is seeing it fall?
— Mark Twain
He lay down upon a sumptuous divan, and proceeded to instruct himself with honest zeal.
— Mark Twain
The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or never looked THROUGH them for so
— Mark Twain
Whenever you are popular just pause and see the reflect.
— Mark Twain
Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did.
— Mark Twain
Only two things we'll regret on deathbed — that we are a little loved and little traveled.
— Mark Twain
I must have a prodigious quantity of mind; it takes me as much as a week sometimes to make it up. But
— Mark Twain
All that evening I sat by my fire at the Warwick Arms, steeped in a dream of the olden time, while the rain beat upon the windows, and the wind roared about the eaves and corners.
— Mark Twain