I'm so lonely I don't even want to be with myself anymore.
I want to prove to myself, most importantly, that I can do this. I've believed all along that I could, and I won't let myself down. I've made up my mind that this is what I want to do and I won't settle for anything else.
If I discover within myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.
The world is the mirror of myself dying.
Fear is static that prevents me from hearing myself.
I never loved another person the way I loved myself.
Yes, and I had pimples so badly it used to make me so shy. I used not to look at myself. I'd hide my face in the dark, I wouldn't want to look in the mirror and my father teased me and I just hated it and I cried everyday.
I just want to be myself.
I'm extremely happy in my life. I consider myself to be very blessed.
I don't do a huge amount of physical activity. I play tennis, I work out sporadically, and I eat well and take care of myself.
I do not know myself, and God forbid that I should.
I am so happy with myself; it's an awesome feeling.
When I give I give myself.
I feel happy and fulfilled, and proud of myself.
I hate myself and I want to die.
If I wasn't Bob Dylan, I'd probably think that Bob Dylan has a lot of answers myself.
I always wanted to ride a dragon myself, so I decided to do this for a year in my imagination.
I myself believe that there will one day be time travel because when we find that something isn't forbidden by the over-arching laws of physics we usually eventually find a technological way of doing it.
I am no longer sure of anything. If I satiate my desires, I sin but I deliver myself from them; if I refuse to satisfy them, they infect the whole soul.
The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just as I am, then I can change.
I'm pretty excited. It's a happy moment for myself and my family.
Color is my day-long obsession, joy and torment. To such an extent indeed that one day, finding myself at the deathbed of a woman who had been and still was very dear to me, I caught myself in the act of focusing on her temples and automatically analyzing the succession of appropriately graded colors which death was imposing on her motionless face.
I looked into it myself.
I'm speechless. I'm so disappointed in myself. It's just a wall. I've got to find a way to break that wall and come out. My confidence is there, I'm just not playing. I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm just not playing.
It's a birthday present to myself.