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Himself Quotes (page 70)

Within him, as he hurled himself forward, was born a love, a despairing fondness for this flag which was near him. It was a creation of beauty and invulnerability. It was a goddess, radiant, that bended its form with an imperious gesture to him. It was a woman, red and white, hating and loving, that called him with the voice of his hopes. Because no harm could come to it he endowed it with power. He kept near, as if it could be a saver of lives, and an imploring cry went from his mind. Stephen Crane
The man who is more than his chemistry, walking on the earth, turning his plow point for a stone, dropping his handles to slide over an outcropping, kneeling in the earth to eat his lunch; that man who is more than his elements knows the land that is more than its analysis. But the machine man, driving a dead tractor on land he does not know and love, understands only chemistry; and he is contemptuous of the land and of himself, then the corrugated iron doors are shut, he goes home, and his... John Steinbeck
A man who desires to soften another man's heart, should always abuse himself. In softening a woman's heart, he should abuse her. Anthony Trollope
A man who gives a good account of himself is probably lying, since any life when viewed from the inside is simply a series of defeats. George Orwell
Henri Matisse quote: "Whoever wishes to devote himself to painting should begin by..."
Whoever wishes to devote himself to painting should begin by cutting out his own tongue Henri Matisse
We need a Napoleon. An Alexander. Except that Napoleon lost in the end, and Alexander flamed out and died young. We need a Julius Caesar, except that he made himself a dictator, and died for it. Orson Scott Card
Jimmy had been full of himself back then, thinks Snowman with indulgence and a little envy. He’d been unhappy too, of course. It went without saying, his unhappiness. He’d put a lot of energy into it. Margaret Atwood
This was exactly why holidays were so valuable, he told himself: they allowed you to stand back a bit, and see where you were going rusty. Colin Dexter
He had two lives: one, open, and known by all who cared to know, full of relative truth and of relative falsehood, exactly like the lives of his friends and acquaintances; and another life running its course in secret. And though some strange, perhaps accidental, conjunction of circumstances, everything that was essential, of interest and of value to him, everything in which he was sincere and did not deceive himself, everything that made the kernel of his life, was hidden from other people. Anton Chekhov
The world's Redeemer was treated as we deserve to be treated, in order that we might be treated as he deserved to be treated. He came to our world and took our sins upon his own divine soul that we might receive his imputed righteousness. He was condemned for our sins, in which he had no share, that we might be justified by his righteousness, in which we had no share. The world's Redeemer gave himself for us. Who was he? The Majesty of heaven, pouring out his blood upon the altar of... Ellen G. White
Bacon's portraits are an interrogation on the limits of the self. Up to what degree of distortion does an individual still remain himself? To what degree of distortion does a beloved person still remain a beloved person? For how long does a cherished face growing remote through illness, through madness, through hatred, through death still remain recognizable? Where is the border beyond which a self ceases to be a self? Milan Kundera
The name that no human research can discover--But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess. When you notice a cat in profound meditation, The reason, I tell you, is always the same: His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation. Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name: His ineffable effable. Effanineffable. Deep and inscrutable singular Name. T. S. Eliot
I have never recorded a fact, which perhaps aught to have gone into my sketch of Thoreau, that, on the 1st August 1844, when I read my Discourse on Emancipation (in the British West Indies), in the Town Hall, in Concord, and the selectmen would not direct the sexton to ring the meeting-house bell, Henry went himself, and rung the bell at the appointed hour. Ralph Waldo Emerson
Everything I have written up to now is trifling compared to that which I would like to write and would write with great pleasure...Either I am a fool and a self-conceited person, or I am a being capable of becoming a good writer; I am displeased and bored with everything now being written, while everything in my head interests, moves, and excites me--whence I draw the conclusion that no one is doing what is needed, and I alone know the secret of how it should be done. In all likelihood... Anton Chekhov
But he found that a traveller's life is one that includes much pain amidst its enjoyments. His feelings are for ever on the stretch; and when he begins to sink into repose, he finds himself obliged to quit that on which he rests in pleasure for something new, which again engages his attention, and which also he forsakes for other novelties. Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

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