Quotes about Self

Second, we chose to believe Christ is already within us, and we remind ourselves of this marvel. The springs of life well up from within.

the Self stakes out its own territory within us to assure getting its own way, ordering our world to its likings. It has imbedded assumptions and privileges in our psyche; there is a momentum to its desires, motives, and presence in us. I call this the Self Life.

There is a satisfaction we don't want to come to until we come to it in God....[Disappointments] serve to remind us every day that we cannot make life work the way we want....If we'll let it, the disappointment can be God's way of continually drawing us back to himself.

The most essential gift you have to give is yourself.

Notice that the older brother can't receive the father's generosity; he's closed off, curtained off, by his attention to Self. This is the hidden danger I spoke of: the stubborn life of the Self. The Exalted Me, unsubmitted and unsurrendered to the rule of Christ in me.

When we abandon ourselves to love, we find ourselves closer to the one who is always doing that Himself. We find God.

The wilderness trial of Christ is, at its core, a test of his identity. "If you are who you think you are... " If a man is ever to find out who he is and what he's here for, he has got to take that journey for himself. He has got to get his heart back.

This is every man's deepest fear: to be exposed, to be found out, to be discovered as an impostor, and not really a man.

The problem of self-identity is not just a problem for the young. It is a problem all the time. Perhaps the problem. It should haunt old age, and when it no longer does it should tell you that you are dead.

Jesus, I surrender the Self Life to you.

Thou art a dreaming thing, A fever of thyself.

A Poet is the most unpoetical of any thing in existence; because he has no Identity--he is continually in for--and filling some other Body--The Sun, the Moon, the Sea and Men and Women who are creatures of impulse are poetical and have about them an unchangeable attribute--the poet has none; no identity--he is certainly the most unpoetical of all God's Creatures. If then he has no self, and if I am a Poet, where is the Wonder that I should say I would write no more?