Unknown Self Quotes

There is someone who is living my life. And I know nothing about him.

What does that mean know me, know me, nobody ever knows anybody else, ever! You will never know me.

No one knows what I am and really, I wonder if I do, at the end of the day.

One does not know - cannot know - the best that is in one.

Nobody knows you. You don't know yourself. And I, who am half in love with you, What am I in love with? My own imaginings?

I learned quite early on in life that we are all two people. And one of those people none of us will ever know.

Death falls heavily on that man who, known too well to others, dies in ignorance of himself.

Faces ...I ...don't ...know ...the real ...me

Who you are is a mystery no one can answer, not even you.

I don't ever feel like anybody knows who I am.

I don't think anyone really knows me.

To every man in the world there is one person of whom he knows little: whom he would never recognize if he met him walking down the street, whose motives are a mystery to him. That is himself.

And the more you become aware of the unknown self - if you become aware of it - the more you realize that it is inseparably connected with everything else that is.

You can do terrible things when you don't know who you are.

If we fear the unknown then surely we fear ourselves.

For ever, I shall be a stranger to myself.

The portion we see of human beings is very small: their formats and faces, voices and words.... beyond these, like an immense dark continent, lies all that has made them.

All the time we wondered and wondered, who is this person coming/growing/turning/floating/swimming deep, deep inside.

Are people drawn to each other because of the stories they carry inside? At the library I couldn’t help but notice which patrons checked out the same books. They appeared to have nothing in common, but who could tell what a person was truly made of? The unknown, the riddle, the deepest truth. I noticed them all: the ones who’d lost their way, the ones who’d lived their lives in ashes, the ones who had to prove themselves, the ones who, like me, had lost the ability to feel.

Each person is an enigma. You're a puzzle not only to yourself but also to everyone else, and the great mystery of our time is how we penetrate this puzzle.

...fact was she knew more about them than she knew about herself, having never had the map to discover what she was like. Could she sing? (Was it nice to hear when she did?) Was she pretty? Was she a good friend? Could she have been a loving mother? A faithful wife? Have I got a sister and does she favor me? If my mother knew me would she like me? (140)

Chemically speaking or biologically, we research things, but we don't know half of them. We only know our half of it - symbolically - and we don't know ourselves more than half.

The dream arises from a part of the mind unknown to us, but none the less important, and is concerned with the desires for the approaching day.

The mystery of the soul is like that of a closed door. When you open it, you see something which was not there before.