Narcissus Quotes

Vonnegut was talking," I say today, "about the psychic effects of trauma." There's a sentence of Alice Miller's looping in my mind, about grandiose people and depressives, Narcissus and Echo: "Neither can accept the truth that this loss or absence of love has already happened in the past, and that no effort whatsoever can change this fact." It's the main thing I've learned from reading all this psychology: the future is always trying to feel like the past. When it does, it feels like selfishness, hurt, loss at the hands of others. The trick is to let it empty. Maybe this is another way to come unstuck in time. ~ Kristin Dombek

Night shift. Jamey raises his arm, and a hundred arms are raised. He smiles, with thousands of teeth. Jamey thinks of Narcissus bending to the pool. He thinks of how a swan on a calm lake is one with its reflection, and then lifting off, the bird divides from its self, and both parts becomes smaller and smaller. Division is more interesting than duplication, and an ax is a fascinating tool. It makes a fallen tree into wood that will keep your family warm. It does more than separate a whole into pieces; it changes the spirit of the thing, its use. He thinks about Elise checking her compact, and how he looks over her shoulder to catch her outlined eye in the mirror. Her eye, separated from the rest of her, floating. Normally he doesn't let his mind split into pieces, because it frightens him, but he's in a container here. He has so much time to think on the night shift. ~ Jardine Libaire

It is not our purpose to become each other; it is to recognize each other, to learn to see the other and honor him for what he is. ~ Hermann Hesse

I wasn't afraid of him anymore, because I could smell his fear. You never had to be afraid of anything that was afraid of you. ~ Laurell K. Hamilton

I brought a mirror to Lovers' Lane. I told everybody I'm Narcissus. ~ Steven Wright

The first time I saw a narcissus pushing through ice and thriving, I thought it was perfect and wanted that kind of determination for myself. ~ Paula McLain

Why, my dear Basil, he is a Narcissus, and you - well, of course you have an intellectual expression, and all that. But beauty, real beauty, ends where an intellectual expression begins. Intellect is in itself an exaggeration, and destroys the harmony of any face. The moment one sits down to think, one becomes all nose, or all forehead, or something horrid. ~ Oscar Wilde

Narcissus weeps to find that his Image does not return his love. ~ Mason Cooley

Narcissus looked at him gravely: I take you seriously when you are Goldmund. But you're not always Goldmund. I wish nothing more than to see you become Goldmund through and through. You are not a scholar, you are not a monk - scholars and monks can have a coarser grain. You think you're not learned or logical or pious enough for me. On the contrary, you are not enough yourself. ~ Hermann Hesse

Still deeper the meaning of that story of Narcissus, who because he could not grasp the tormenting, mild image he saw in the fountain, plunged into it and was drowned. But that same image we ourselves see in all rivers and oceans. It is the image of the ungraspable phantom of life; and this is the key to it all.

Narcissism, the unstable self, the fractured ego, Maud thought, who am I? A matrix for a susurration of texts and codes?It was both a pleasant and an unpleasant idea, this requirement that she think of herself as intermittent and partial. There was the question of the awkward body. The skin, the breath, the eyes, the hair, their history, which did seem to exist. ~ A.S. Byatt

If one finds oneself with bread in both hands, that person should exchange one loaf for some flowers of the narcissus, because the loaf feeds the body, but the flowers feed the soul. ~ Nazr Mohammed

An interesting observation. I must admit I'm a little surprised, though. No girl's ever complained about it before. You're the first..."

"I didn't mean your muscle tone, Narcissus. I mean that... thing. I didn't know you were in the habit of decorating your body with portraits of your victims. It totally reminds me of the cockroach you so theatrically banished from this life. ~ Zoya Tessi

Their mask reflects what you seek and that is what makes it so nice at first. A manufactured mirror of your dreams. ~ Tracy Malone

Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph that liv'st unseen
Within thy airy shell
By slow Meander's margent green,
And in the violet-imbroider'd vale
Where the love-lorn nightingale
Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well:
Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair
That likest thy Narcissus are? ~ John Milton

Antiquity breached mortality with myths.
Narcissus is vocabulary. Hermes decorates
A cornice on the Third National Bank. ~ Allen Tate

I thought of several alec smart remarks, but you should humor crazy people when you're at their mercy; it's a rule. ~ Laurell K. Hamilton

If they spit on you,
collect their spittle to water your plants.

If they throw stones at you,
pick them up to adorn your garden.

If they call you the enemy, a liar and a narcissist.
Plant those very flowers: anemone, lily and narcissus.

Use their crap to cultivate your mind. ~ Kamand Kojouri

She was hell on wheels and used to getting her own way. ~ Laurell K. Hamilton

Once again she was struck by a sense of profound familiarity. She knew this place. In the story that her mother used to tell, the house had been a literal gateway to another world; for Elodie, though, curled up in her mother's arms, breathing in the exotic fragrance of narcissus that she wore, the story itself had been a gateway, an incantation that carried her away from the here and now and into the land of imagination. After her mother's death, the world of the story had become her secret place. Whether at lunchtime in her new school, or at home in the long, quiet afternoons, or at night when the darkness threatened suffocation, all she had to do was hide herself away and close her eyes and she could cross the river, brave the woods, and enter the enchanted house... ~ Kate Morton

It was shameless how life made fun of one; it was a joke, a cause for weeping! Either one lived and let one's senses play, drank full at the primitive mother's breast - which brought great bliss but was no protection against death; then one lived like a mushroom in the forest, colorful today and rotten tomorrow. Or else one put up a defense, imprisoned oneself for work and tried to build a monument to the fleeting passage of life - then one renounced life, was nothing but a tool; one enlisted in the service of that which endured, but one dried up in the process and lost one's freedom, scope, lust for life...
Ach, life made sense only if one achieved both, only if it was not split by this brittle alternative! To create, without sacrificing one's senses for it. To live, without renouncing the mobility of creating. Was that impossible? ~ Hermann Hesse

Richard was a riddle with no answer, and I was tired of playing a game I couldn't win. ~ Laurell K. Hamilton

The creative side of the female operates imperceptibly: its province is the potential man. When its play is unrestricted the level of the race is raised. One can always gauge the level of a period by the status of its womankind. Something more than freedom and opportunity are here involved because Woman's true nature never expressed itself in demands. Like water, woman always finds her own level. And like water also, she mirrors faithfully all that passes in the soul of man. What is called truly feminine therefore is only the deceptive masquerade which the uncreative male blindly accepts as the real show. It is the flattering substitute which the thwarted female offers in self-defense. It is the homosexual game which Narcissus exacts. It is most flagrantly revealed when the partners are extremely masculine and feminine. It can be mimicked most successfully in the shadow play of the avowed homosexuals. It reaches its blind culmination in the Don Juan. Here the pursuit of the unattainable reaches the burlesk proportions of a Chaplinesque pursuit. The end is always the same: Narcissus drowning in his own image. ~ Henry Miller

While one is singing one does not think about whether of not the singing is useful. One simply sings. ~ Hermann Hesse

Truth in art is not any correspondence between the essential idea and the accidental existence; it is not the resemblance of shape to shadow, or of the form mirrored in the crystal to the form itself; it is no echo coming from a hollow hill anymore than it is a silver well of water in the valley that shows the moon to the moon and Narcissus to Narcissus. ~ Oscar Wilde

They were interrupted as a young girl walked along the pavement in front of the sessions house, calling, "Flowers! Fresh-cut flowers!" She stopped in front of them. "Posy for the lady, sir?"
Ransom turned to the girl, who wore a colorful scarf over her long dark hair and a patchwork apron over her black dress. She carried a flat basket filled with posyes, their stems wrapped with bits of colored ribbon.
"There's no need-" Garrett began, but Ransom ignored her, browsing over the tiny bouquets of roses, narcissus, violets, forget-me-nots, and dianthus.
"How much?" he asked the flower girl.
"A farthing, sir."
He glanced at Garrett over his shoulder. "Do you like violets?"
"I do," she said hesitantly.
Ransom gave the flower-girl a sixpence and picked out one of the posyes.
"Thank you, sir!" The girl scurried away as if fearing he might change his mind.
Ransom turned to Garrett with the cluster of purple blossoms. Reaching for the lapel of her walking jacket, he deftly tucked the ribbon-wrapped stem of the posy into a buttonhole.
"Violets make an excellent blood-purifying tonic," Garrett said awkwardly, feeling the need to fill the silence. "And they're good for treating cough or fever."
The elusive dimple appeared in his cheek. "They're also becoming to green-eyed women. ~ Lisa Kleypas

The film libraries on some of these channels." Elmina said. "I swear. There was one on last night. I couldn't sleep. After I saw, it, I was afraid ro sleep. Have you seen Black Narcissus, 1947?"
Eddie, who was enrolled in the graduate film program at SC, let out a scream of recognition. He's been working on his doctoral dissertation, "Deadpasn to Demoniac - Subtextual Uses of Eyeliner in the Cinema," and had just in fact arrived at moment in Black Narcissus where Kathleen Byron, as a demented nun, shows up in civilian gear, including eye makeup good for a year's worth of nighmares. ~ Thomas Pynchon

And was it not perhaps more childlike and human to lead a Goldmund-life, more courageous, more noble perhaps in the end to abandon oneself to the cruel stream of reality, to chaos, to commit sins and accept their bitter consequences rather than live a clean life with washed hands outside the world, laying out a lonely harmonious thought-garden, strolling sinlessly among one's sheltered flower beds. Perhaps it was harder, braver and nobler to wander through forests and along the highways with torn shoes, to suffer sun and rain, hunger and need, to play with the joys of the senses and pay for them with suffering.
At any rate, Goldmund had shown him that a man destined for high things can dip into the lowest depths of the bloody, drunken chaos of life, and soil himself with much dust and blood, without becoming small and common, without killing the divine spark within himself, that he can err through the thickest darkness without extinguishing the divine light and the creative force inside the shrine of his soul. ~ Hermann Hesse

And in his button-hole he stuck a narcissus, hoping it would attract Mary's notice, so that he might have the delight of giving it her. ~ Elizabeth Gaskell

Workshops, churches, and palaces were full of these fatal works of art; he had even helped with a few himself. They were deeply disappointing because they aroused the desire for the highest and did not fulfill it. They lacked to most essential thing - mystery. That was what dreams and truly great works of art had in common: mystery... It is mystery I love and pursue. ~ Hermann Hesse

That man, especially when he slept, when his features were motionless, showed me my own face, my mask, the flawlessly pure image of my corpse […] in a state of perfect repose, this resemblance was strikingly evident, and what is death, if not a face at peace – its artistic perfection? Life only marred my double; thus a breeze dims the bliss of Narcissus; thus, in the painter's absence, there comes his pupil and by the superfluous flush of unbidden tints disfigures the portrait painted by the master. ~ Vladimir Nabokov

With men one could have clever, uplifting conversations, and men understood the work of an artist; but everything else-idle talk, tenderness, playfulness, love, contentment unmarred by thought-did not flourish among men; for that there had to be women and new places and constantly new impressions. ~ Hermann Hesse

Our squalid society rushed, Narcissus to a man, to gaze on its trivial image on a scrap of metal. ~ Charles Baudelaire

Narcissus is gorgeous. Like, imagine if someone could look exactly like bacon tastes and you have a pretty good picture of Narcissus (unless you're a vegetarian). ~ Cory O'Brien

Forgive me, father, I am not certain what my own wishes are. I shall always take pleasure in study, how could it be otherwise? But I do not believe that my life will be limited to study. A man's wishes may not always determine his destiny, his mission; perhaps there are other predetermining factors. ~ Hermann Hesse

Nature is none other than God in all things. ~ Giordano Bruno

You cannot hammer a girl into anything. She grows as a flower does, she will wither without sun; she will decay in her sheath as a narcissus will if you do not give her air enough; she might fall and defile her head in dust if you leave her without help at some moments in her life; but you cannot fetter her; she must take her own fair form and way if she take any. ~ John Ruskin

I believe ... that the petal of a flower or a tiny worm on the path says far more, contains far more than all the books in the library. One cannot say very much with mere letters and words. Sometimes I'll be writing a Greek letter, a theta or an omega, and tilt my pen just the slightest bit; suddenly the letter has a tail and becomes a fish; in a second it evokes all the streams and rivers of the world, all that is cool and humid, Homer's sea and the waters on which Saint Peter wandered; or becomes a bird, flaps its tail, shakes out its feathers, puffs itself up, laughs, flies away. You probably don't appreciate letters like that, very much, do you, Narcissus? But I say: with them God wrote the world. ~ Hermann Hesse

Eo took out a pen and autographed the arm of one of the nymphs.
"Narcissus is a loser! He's so weak, he can't bench-press a Kleenex. He's so lame when you look up lame on Wikipedia, it's got a picture of Narcissus-only the picture is so ugly , no one ever checks it out."
Narcissus knit his handsome eyebrows. His face was turning from bronze to salmon pink. For the moment, he'd totally forgotten about the pond, and Leo could see the sheet of bronze sinking into the sand. ~ Rick Riordan

So Recklessly Exposed

December and January, gone.
Tulips coming up. It's time to watch
how trees stagger in the wind
and roses never rest.

Wisteria and Jasmine twist on themselves.
Violet kneels to Hyacinth, who bows.

Narcissus winks, wondering what will
the lightheaded Willow say
of such slow dancing by Cypress.

Painters come outdoors with brushes.
I love their hands.

The birds sing suddenly and all at once.
The soul says Ya Hu, quietly.

A dove calls, Where, ku?
Soul, you will find it.

Now the roses show their breasts.
No one hides when the Friend arrives.

The Rose speaks openly to the Nightingale.
Notice how the Green Lily has several tongues
but still keeps her secret.

Now the Nightingale sings this love
that is so recklessly exposed, like you. ~ Jalaluddin Rumi

The notion that inspired play (even when audacious, offensive, or obscene) enhances rather than diminishes intellectual vigor and spiritual fulfillment, the notion that in the eyes of the gods the tight-lipped hero and the wet-cheeked victim are frequently inferior to the red-nosed clown, such notions are destined to be a hard sell to those who have E.M. Forster on their bedside table and a clump of dried narcissus up their ass.

Not to worry. As long as words and ideas exist, there will be a few misfits who will cavort with them in a spirit of *approfondement*–if I may borrow that marvelous French word that translates roughly as 'playing easily in the deep'–and in so doing they will occasionally bring to realization Kafka's belief that 'a novel should be an ax for the frozen seas around us'. ~ Tom Robbins

Narcissus knew only too well what a charming golden bird had flown to him. This hermit soon sensed a kindred soul in Goldmund, in spite of their apparent contrasts. Narcissus was dark and spare; Goldmund, a radiant youth. Narcissus was analytical, a thinker; Goldmund, a dreamer with the soul of a child. But something they had in common bridged these contrasts: both were refined; both were different from the others because of obvious gifts and signs; both bore the special mark of fate. ~ Hermann Hesse

Oh, Narcissus! My heart beats ink for you.
A pulse in every line.
It's your eyes
my words want to be read by,
your kind of mind
they would be understood by,
your heart
they'd be felt by,
and then you'd feel the same way that I do,
if only these words could be read or heard by you. ~ Steven L. Sheppard

I'm the Super-sized McShizzle, man!" Leo said. "I'm Leo Valdez, bad boy supreme. And the ladies love a bad boy. ~ Rick Riordan

If you're too damn stubborn to let yourself cry, then your body finds other ways to let it out. ~ Laurell K. Hamilton

Leo took out a pen and autographed the arm of one of the nymphs. Narcissus is a loser! He's so weak, he can't bench-press a Kleenex. He's so lame, when you look up lame on Wikipedia, it's got a picture of Narcissus - only the picture's so ugly, no one ever checks it out. ~ Rick Riordan

She doesn't understand what she's asking, Jean-Claude said.
No, but she asks, and if we do not do it, we will always wonder. I would rather thy and fail than regret having never tried at all. ~ Laurell K. Hamilton

Yesterday a very interesting, beautifully photografed english picture about a nun convent in India, "Black Narcissus," with Deborah Kerr who is quite lovely. They are away ahead of Hollywood, better ideas, better scripts, better color, and much better acting.

Kurt Weill, London, May 8, 1947 ~ Kurt Weill

Narcissus does not fall in love with his reflection because it is beautiful, but because it is his. If it were his beauty that enthralled him, he would be set free in a few years by its fading. ~ W. H. Auden

But I loved Narcissus because as he lay on my banks and looked down at me, in the mirror of his eyes I saw ever my own beauty mirrored. ~ Oscar Wilde

Down at the old house, I've made a serious effort to rejuvenate what was once my garden and lawn. And I've been rewarded with all sorts of forgotten and neglected plants making surprise appearances. Random daffodils and narcissus. A fairy rose that I thought was gone forever. And, despite some very enthusiastic pruning by the local deer population, the little plum trees look as if they will survive. There is one that is very battered as the deer used it to rub the velvet off their antlers, but it is sending up some shoots and it may yet live for another year.

So. Spring. The most forgiving season of the year. ~ Megan Lindholm

We fitted together like the two halves of an oyster-shell. I was Narcissus, embracing the pond in which I was about to drown. However much we had to hide our love, however guarded we had to be about our pleasure, I could not long be miserable about a thing so very sweet. Nor, in my gladness, could I quite believe that anybody would be anything but happy for me if only they knew. ~ Sarah Waters

Why did the old Persians hold the sea holy? Why did the Greeks give it a separate deity, and own brother Jove? Surely all this is not without meaning. And still deeper the meaning of that story of Narcissus, who because he could not grasp the tormenting mild image he saw in the fountain, plunged into it and was drowned. But that same image, we ourselves see in all rivers and oceans. It is the image of the ungraspable phantom of life; and this is the key to it all. ~ Herman Melville

The mythological Narcissus rejected the advances of the nymph Echo and was punished by the goddess Nemesis. He was consigned to pine away as he fell in love with his own reflection - exactly as Echo had pined away for him. How apt. Narcissists are punished by echoes and reflections of their problematic personalities up to this very day.
Narcissists are said to be in love with themselves.
But this is a fallacy. Narcissus is not in love with himself. He is in love with his reflection.
There is a major difference between one's True Self and reflected-self. ~ Sam Vaknin

It is you I have been able to love, you alone in all the world. You can have no idea of what that means. It means a spring in the desert, a blossoming tree in the wilderness. ~ Hermann Hesse

Narcissus is the glory of his race: For who does nothing with a better grace?. ~ Edward Young

Bosie has insisted on stopping here for sandwiches. He is quite like a narcissus
so white and gold. I will come either Wednesday or Thursday night to your rooms. Send me a line. Bosie is so tired: he lies like a hyacinth on the sofa, and I worship him. (letter from Oscar Wilde, 1892 - quoted from Love in a dark time by Colm Toibin) ~ Oscar Wilde

In my garden
the winds have beaten
the ripe lilies;
in my garden, the salt
has wilted the first flakes
of young narcissus. ~ Hilda Doolittle

People don't change.'

'People change entirely,' I said. 'Look at Narcissus. Became a flower. I call that change. ~ Kamila Shamsie

In January the lavender heather and white candytufts would bloom. February perked up the plum tree, and March would bring forth the daffodils, narcissus, and moonlight bloom. April lilacs and sugartuft would blossom along with the pink and bloodred rhododendrons, bluebells, and the apple tree in the victory garden. As the weather warmed, miniature purple irises would rise amid the volunteers of white alyssum and verbena. The roses, dahlias, white Shasta daisies, black-eyed Susans, and marigolds would bloom from late spring to early fall. Leota could see it. She knew exactly ~ Francine Rivers

WHAT IS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN SELF-LOVE AND NARCISSISM? On the surface, the story of Narcissus seems to bear out our fears that to love the self means that we become SELFISH and develop an arrogant disregard for the needs and feelings of OTHERS. But if we look at Narcissus a little more closely, we see that it isn't HIMSELF that he loves but his REFLECTED self. He is actually incapable of love in any of its PURE forms, most of all, the LOVE of SELF. In fact, it is a sense of feeling so miserably INFERIOR and DEPENDENT on others? approval that drives narcissistic behaviour in the first place. ~ Bev Aisbett

It never occurred to him to see himself as the contradiction, the exact opposite of his friend. He thought that only love, only sincere devotion was needed to fuse two into one, to wipe out differences and bridge contrasts. But how harsh and positive this Narcissus was, how merciless and precise! Innocent abandonment, grateful wandering together in the land of friendship seemed unknown and undesirable to him. He did not seem to understand, to tolerate dreamy strolls on paths that led in no particular direction. ~ Hermann Hesse

You do not see the painting in the attic
The maggots on skin that tear.
The beauty is a trick.
Narcissus - promise naught but air...' ~ Dorian Gray ~ Stella Coulson

He wanted you dead, now he doesn't, I don't know why. Chimera's crazy, he doesn't need a reason to change his mind. ~ Laurell K. Hamilton

Love of God," he said slowly, searching for words, "is not always
the same as love of good, I wish it were that simple. We know what
is good, it is written in the Commandments. But God is not
contained only in the Commandments, you know; they are only an
infinitesimal part of Him. A man may abide by the Commandments
and be far from God. ~ Hermann Hesse

What are you talking about?" Narcissus demanded. "I am amazing. Everyone knows this."
"Amazing at pure suck," Leo said. "If I was as suck as you, I'd drown myself. Oh wait, you already did that. ~ Rick Riordan

One narcissus among the ordinary beautiful
flowers, one unlike all the others! She pulled,
stooped to pull harder-
when, sprung out of the earth
on his glittering terrible
carriage, he claimed his due.
It is finished. No one had heard her.
No one! She had strayed from the herd.
(Remember: go straight to school.
This is important, stop fooling around!
Don't answer to strangers. Stick
with your playmates. Keep your eyes down.)
This is how easily the pit
opens. This is how one foot sinks into the ground. ~ Rita Dove

He who has two cakes of bread, let him dispose of one of them for some flowers of the narcissus; for bread is the food of the body, and the narcissus is the food of the soul. ~ Galen

And think about the precise meaning of that term: a Narcissus is not proud. A proud man has disdain for other people, he undervalues them. The Narcissus overvalues them, because in every person's eyes he sees his own image, and wants to embellish it. So he takes nice care of all his mirrors. ~ Milan Kundera

In a very real way, attention is a drug. Like dope, attention makes people feel good by delivering a 'hit' of certain neurotransmitters (chemicals that transmit, or block the transmission of electrochemical currents) in the brain. Like anything that does this (viz., sex, risk-taking, power), in excessive amounts it's addictive. And, simply because it works, nothing is as addictive as a pain killer. Hence Narcissus is well-named from the Greek word for narcosis.

Attention is his pain killer. ~ Kathy Krajco

They see nothing indecent in sexual intercourse, whether heterosexual or homosexual, and indulge in it quite openly, in full view of everyone. The only exception was Socrates, who was always swearing that his relations with young men were purely Platonic, but nobody believed him for a moment, and Hyacinthus and Narcissus gave first-hand evidence to the contrary. ~ Lucian Of Samosata

Stop!" Narcissus got to his feet. "This is not right! This person is obviously not awesome, so he must be ... " He struggled for the right words. It had probably been a long time since he'd talked about anything other than himself. "He must be tricking us."
Apparently Narcissus wasn't completely stupid. ~ Rick Riordan

When we are young we do not look into mirrors. It is when we are old, concerned with our name, our legend, what our lives will mean to the future. We become vain with the names we own, our claims to have been the first eyes, the strongest army, the cleverest merchant. It is when he is old that Narcissus wants a graven image of himself. ~ Michael Ondaatje

Come, let us drink the last raindrop tears from a narcissus cup and fill our souls with the songs of larks. ~ Kahlil Gibran

He is funny," a nymph ventured.
"And cute, in a scrawny way," another said.
"Scrawny?" Leo asked. "Baby, I invented scrawny. Scrawny is the new sizzling hot . And I GOT the scrawny. Narcissus? He's such a loser even the Underworld didn't want him. He couldn't get the ghost girls to date him."
"Eww," said a nymph.
"Eww!" Echo agreed. ~ Rick Riordan

To be an artist at all is like living in Switzerland during a world war. To be an artist in Zurich, in 1917, implies a degree of self-absorption that would have glazed over the eyes of Narcissus. ~ Tom Stoppard

Never again!" commanded his will.
"Again! Tomorrow!" begged his heart. ~ Hermann Hesse

Because the world is so full of death and horror, I try again and again to console my heart and pick the flowers that grow in the midst of hell. ~ Hermann Hesse

His fame as an artist requires very tender care. Look what a mask of diplomacy is painstakingly formed by the whole of that fine profile; he is as wily as a cardinal. He has scented in Miss White a useful agent of celebrity, and he has come solely to harness her to the cause of his glory. It is himself that he courts by means of the salaams he offers to her; he only ever flirts with himself. He is the Narcissus of the inkpot ... ~ Jean Lorrain

Vulgarity is an old Narcissus who adores himself and applauds the common vulgarity. ~ Victor Hugo

It would take a while before the postmodern Narcissus perceived the ruins of society behind the emptiness of his mirror. ~ Paul Verhaeghe

Look to the sky, look to yourself and remember: we are only God's echoes and God is Narcissus. ~ Mark Z. Danielewski