I am so changeable, being everything by turns and nothing long - such a strange melange of good and evil.

Life is like an ever-shifting kaleidoscope - a slight change, and all patterns alter.

Oh, the most important thing about myself is that my life has been full of changes. Therefore, when I observe the world, I don’t expect to see it just like I was seeing the fellow who lives in the next room. There is this complexity which seems to me to be part of the meaning of existence and everything we value.

When I look at my life and its secret colours, I feel like bursting into tears.

A moment’s reflection will show you that you play many roles in the course of a day . . . and that who you are from moment to moment changes. There is the angry you, and the kind you, the lazy you, the lustful you — hundreds of different you’s. Gurdjieff points out that sometimes one “you” does something for which all the other “you’s” must pay for years or possibly the rest of this life.

كانت حياتي سلسة من التحولات

New thoughts and hopes were whirling through my mind, and all the colours of my life were changing.

Your life is who you are at the deepest level. Your life is made up of the internal components, attitudes, and mindsets that can give you the power to alter, enhance, or change your life situation at any given moment.

Study me as much as you like, you will never know me, for I differ a hundred ways from what you see me to be.

How puzzling all these changes are! I'm never sure what I'm going to be, from one minute to another.

Our real life is not the life we live, and we feel that our deepest, nay, our most intimate thoughts are quite apart from ourselves, for we are other than our thoughts and our dreams. And it is only at special moments – it may be by merest accident – that we live our own life. Will the day ever dawn when we shall be what we are? …

No one reveals himself as he is; we all wear a mask and play a role.

- <i>On Psychology</i>

For most of my life, I’ve felt that there must be more to our existence than meets the eye.
This is who I am, and you can’t expect me to be someone I’m not.

It would be wholly impossible for me to say whether this cloudy, silently disturbed, unraveled sky is mirrored in my soul or the reverse, whether or not I read the image of my own inner life in this sky. Sometimes everything is so completely uncertain! There are days when I am convinced that no man on earth can recognize certain moods of air and cloud, certain tones of color, certain fragrances and movements of moisture as finely, as exactly, and as truly as I can, with my old, nervous sense of poet and wanderer. And then again, as today, it can be doubtful to me whether I have seen, heard, and smelled anything after all, whether everything that I took to be true is not merely an image cast outward, the image of my inner life.