Best 1516 quotes in «reflection quotes» category

Mulan's watery reflection stared back at her: a girl with bloodshot, swollen eyes, pale cheeks, and bruises all over her arms and legs. But that wasn't all Mulan saw. She saw a young woman who'd thrown her heart into becoming a warrior, who'd fought battle after battle, whether it was to please her family and honor their expectations, or to protect China from invaders.

My father's voice may have grown quieter, as Lynn said it would, but I can see now that he actually left me something after all. He left me these little plucks of wisdom that spring forth when I need them most, and his perfectionist's insistence on finding the perfect tone for every song. He left me the twitch, that sudden jolt of my muscles when I see someone else on a stage, or when I realize my hands have been idle for too long. And he left me the yearning I get in the deepest fold of midnight when the rest of the world is sleeping, when the dark is too quiet or the air is too still, and something begins to strum in my gut. So maybe he didn't fail. Maybe neither of us did.

My head phones always allow me to listen to myself

[My grandfather] returned to what he called ‘studying.’ He sat looking down at his lap, his left hand idle on the chair arm, his right scratching his head, his white hair gleaming in the lamplight. I knew that when he was studying he was thinking, but I did not know what about. Now I have aged into knowledge of what he thought about. He thought of his strength and endurance when he was young, his merriment and joy, and how his life’s burdens had then grown upon him. He thought of that arc of country that centered upon Port William as he first had known it in the years just after the Civil War, and as it had changed, and as it had become; and how all that time, which would have seemed almost forever when he was a boy, now seemed hardly anytime at all. He thought of the people he remembered, now dead, and of those who had come and gone before his knowledge, and of those who would come after, and of his own place in that long procession.

MY ⓈⓉⓎⓁⒺ is, My Presentation ➟ & My Attituⅾe is, Your Reflection

My purpose is for you to discover yours.

My sense of the past is vivid and slow. I hear every sign and see every shadow.

My world is a million shattered pieces put together, glued by my tears, where each piece is nothing but a reflection of YOU.

Não há porque te compares com os demais, e se a natureza te criou para morcego, não deves aspirar ser avestruz. às vezes te consideras por demais esquisito e te reprovas por seguires caminhos diversos dos da maioria. Deixa-te disso. Contempla o fogo, as nuvens e quando surgirem presságios e as vozes soarem em tua alma abandona-te a elas sem perguntares se isso convém.

Natural creation is a story that must be automatically habituated in the human brain. Whoever creates repeatedly, makes history. Who reads, writes their own history. That is immeasurable.

Naturally—and why should I not admit this—I have occasionally wondered to myself how things might have turned out in the long run.... I only speculate this now because in the light of subsequent events, it could well be argued that in making my decision...I was perhaps not entirely aware of the full implications of what I was doing. Indeed, it might even be said that this small decision of mine constituted something of a key turning point; that that decision set things on an inevitable course towards what eventually happened. But then, I suppose, when with the benefit of hindsight one begins to search one's past for such 'turning points', one is apt to start seeing them everywhere.... What would have transpired, one may ask, had one responded slightly differently...? And perhaps—occurring as it did around the same time as these events?

Nothing has the power to hold you in the state of pain except your own self.

Ninguém vai olhar para a minha pulseira colorida. No fundo eu sei que quero mostrar isso para mim mesmo.

No deseo que las mujeres tengan poder sobre otros hombres, sino sobre si mismas.

Non immagini come sia terribile fare amicizia con un condannato a morte

No se puede obligar a la gente a que escuche. A su debido tiempo, deberá acudir, preguntándose qué ha ocurrido y por qué el mundo ha estallado bajo ellos

No teacher teaches a student without having taught himself how to learn.

No - the light in Tamani's eyes was much more than a reflection. It was the fire that melted her anger and devestated her resolve, every single time she saw it.

Now the wren has gone to roost and the sky is turnin' gold And like the sky my soul is also turnin' Turnin' from the past, at last and all I've left behind

Oh, listen. Listen!' A sound like a big crowd a good way off, excited and shouting, getting closer. We stand up and scan the empty sky. Suddenly there they are (the geese), a wavering V headed directly over the hilltop, quite low, beating southward down the central flyway and talking as they pass. We stay quiet suspending our human conversation until their garulity fades and their wavering lines are invisible in the sky. They have passed over us like an eraser over a blackboard, wiping away whatever was there before they came.

Never be defined by what has happened to you in the past, it was just a life lesson, not a life sentence. ~ Donald Pillai

no exato momento, num outro jardim, completamente diferente, exatamente igual, alguém pronuncia essas palavras e o mesmo sorriso repousa em outro rosto

No, she felt homesick, not for a place, but for a time. Maybe it wasn't homesickness at all. Maybe it was timesickness. She just missed those days when she was younger - seven, six, five, four years old - when she didn't know so much about the world. She missed, most of all, her mother.

Nothing can be more perfect in my world than the imperfection it must match.

Nothing has more meaning in life than to come out of it better than you started it in the first place.

Not one of you reflects, that you ought know your Gods before you worship them.

Now I have to lie on the bed for a few minutes and let the solitude gather round me once more.

Once, in grade school, our class was taken on an overnight excursion to a campground. The air was warm: we had a campfire and ate hot dogs; and as darkness fell, we were herded down to the lake. There were perhaps thirty children, so I suppose there were at least four or five adults. We trooped through the woods with flashlights. There must have been yelling and singing, the grown-ups chattering. A noisy expedition. At the shore of the lake we were presented, as if on a stage, with a doubled moon -- one floating in the clear dark sky, one in the clear dark calm of the water. Were there exclamations, shouts of amazement, loud giggle praise for this sight? There might have been, but for me there was only silence. An unprecedented silence, tranquil and immense. Silence, and the moon on the lake -- a sight so pure I nearly staggered under its impact. I knew, without the words to say it, that the lack in my life of what this moon and lake represented was the other side of the coin of happiness. Not unhappiness, but shame, which was possibly the same thing, and which then rose up in me in nauseating waves.

Once we’ve had time for reflection, instinct leads to insight. Insight tells us more than that which is visible on the surface. It is complex.

One Crack On A Mirror Can Ruin The Beauty of It But Most Importantly, It Ruins The Reflection of The Individual, By Making It Twisted, Zigzag And Ugly. Character Is Like A Mirror. So Build Your Character In Such A Way That It Reflects All The Good In Others Who Follows You Or Treat You As An Idol....

On the still calm waters of surrender, the reflections of clarity appear.

Opportunities happen when timing, connects, and personalities converge.

Our power lies in our small daily choices, one after another, to create eternal ripples of a life well lived.

Our truest reflection reveals that we are what we think, we are what we say and we are what we continuously do.

omnis mundi creatura / quasi liber et pictura / nobis est in speculum (all the creatures of the world / as a book and a picture / are to us a mirror)

Once upon a time there was a king, and the king commissioned his favorite wizard to create a magic mirror. This mirror didn’t show you your reflection. It showed you your soul—it showed you who you really were. The wizard couldn’t look at it without turning away. The king couldn’t look at it. The courtiers couldn’t look at it. A chestful of treasure was offered to anyone who could look at it for sixty seconds without turning away. And no one could.

Only a fool can be happy. For happiness consists of two contradictory elements: contentment and pleasure. Enjoy pleasure and you have no contentment; be content and you have no pleasure. For this reason happiness is conceivable only for those who enjoy themselves without thinking that they will always want more and thus be discontented, or for those who are content without thinking that they have no pleasure. Whoever reflects can never be happy, unless he is a fanatic and thus blinded…thus exercising control over his intelligence with his feelings, instead of the other way round

Our body is a sacred temple A place to connect with people. As we aren't staying any younger We might as well keep it stronger.

Our lives are lived in season of more, seasons of less, seasons of triumph, seasons of loss. Each season sees our needs change. We live, learn, and adapt. So, too, must our definition of meaning. Things that grow in one season rot in another. If we blindly hold on to the past, we'll be forced to sustain ourselves with the expiring beliefs from seasons gone by. No wonder we're often left feeling unsatisfied, empty, starving for substance.

Our value is mirrored back to us through success only when we share the treasure we already are.

Past experiences are not always an ideal or good reflection of the present or the future.

Pauvres créatures! Si c'est un tort de les aimer, c'est bien le moins qu'on les plaigne. Vous plaignez l'aveugle qui n'a jamais vu les rayons du jour, le sourd qui n'a jamais entendu les accords de la nature, le muet qui n'a jamais pu rendre la voix de son âme, et, sous un faux prétexte de pudeur, vous ne voulez pas plaindre cette cécité du coeur, cette surdité de âme, ce mutisme de la conscience qui rendent folle la malheureuse affligée et qui la font malgré elle incapable de voir le bien, d'entendre le Seigneur et de parler la langue pure de l'amour et de la foi.

people around you are reflections of your own identity.

Pegi just recorded "I Don't Want to Talk About," written by Danny Whitten, the original Crazy Horse guitar player and singer who's all over Early Daze, an album of songs from the beginning of Crazy Horse that I have been working on compiling recently. Danny was every bit the artist I am, but he died of a heroin OD in the early seventies. Every time I hear Pegi sing that song, it makes me tremendously sad. She sings it so beautifully, phrasing it to break my heart. She does it justice. You can see I have some unfinished business with Danny.

People change, though, especially after they are dead.

People feeling the need to live inside of Faraday cages is a sad reflection on modern society that humans are devolving into living inside of safe spaces.

People like us, we think differently, don't we? We are different. We do all the things that others do. But when it comes down to it, we don't need anyone else. We're happy doing what we do and having obligation interferes with that. And sometimes I think we don't even need ourselves. What's most important is to find out whether we're right or not.

People who are hard on others are usually very hard on themselves, and the pain they inflict on others is a reflection of the pain they inflict on themselves.

Perhaps I might have resisted a great temptation, but the little ones would have pulled me down

Philosophy is the reflection of reflective mind.