Quotes About Thought

And yet it is this very obliquity of thought and memory which makes mental disease such a fascinating study. Perhaps I may gain more knowledge out of the folly of this madman than I shall from the teaching of the most wise.

Do not fear ever to think. A half thought has been buzzing often in my brain, but I fear to let him loose his wings. Here now, with more knowledge, I go back to where that half thought come from and I find that he be no half thought at all. That be a whole thought, though so young that he is not yet strong to use his little wings.

Toute abstraction est si dure à accepter que notre premier réflexe est de la refuser, d'autant plus si elle s'inscrit à contre-courant de ce que nous avons toujours pensé.»

Sir Walter took this to mean he had not –which Sir Walter was glad of, for Sir Walter thought a great deal of a man's having a profession and believed that useful, steady occupation might cure many things which other remedies could not.

On the other side of the Courtyard I saw the Other looking out of a Window. The Window was tall and dark; the Other's noble head with its high forehead and neatly trimmed beard was framed in one Corner. He was lost in thought as he so often is. I waved to him. He did not see me. I waved more extravagantly. I jumped up and down with great energy. But the Windows of the House are many and he did not see me.

It's a long way from not having enough serotonin to thinking the world is stale, flat and unprofitable; even further to writing a play about a man driven by that thought.

I wasn't convinced I was crazy, though I feared I was. Some people say that having any conscious opinion on the matter is a mark of sanity, but I'm not sure that's true. I still think about it. I'll always have to think about it.

Until the battle with the Revanche he hadn't thought he would ever tire of gazing at the horizon. Only since then had he noticed that the view was . . . empty.

Perhaps, I muse, this is the pace at which the Creator thinks, in this weighty, graceful, liquid manner—like blood flows, not like synapses fire.

I think I made you up inside my head.

Hard, sharp, ticks. I hate them. Measuring thought, infinite space, by cogs and wheels. Can you understand? Someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little, love me a little? For all my despair, for all my ideals, for all that — I love life. But it is hard, and I have so much — so very much to learn.

If Doctor Nolan asked me for the matches, I would say that I'd thought they were made of candy and had eaten them.

beating time along the edge of thought.

My mind slipped from the noose of the thought and swung like a bird, in the center of empty air.

What I fear most I think, is the death of the imagination.

I came to the conclusion seeing also that the 'influence' of Brahmin and Buddhist thought upon Europe, as in Schopenhauer, Hartmann, and Deussen, had largely been through romantic misunderstanding that my only hope of really penetrating to the heart of that mystery would lie in forgetting how to think and feel as an American or a European: which, for practical as well as sentimental reasons, I did not wish to do.

The name that no human research can discover-- But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess. When you notice a cat in profound meditation, The reason, I tell you, is always the same: His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name: His ineffable effable Effanineffable Deep and inscrutable singular Name.

I have heard the key Turn in the door once and turn once only We think of the key, each in his prison Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison

But above and beyond there's still one name left over, And that is the name that you never will guess; The name that no human research can discover-- But the cat himself knows, and will never confess. When you notice a cat in profound meditation, The reason, I tell you, is always the same: His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name: His ineffable effable Effanineffable Deep and inscrutable singular Name.

When you notice a cat in profound meditation, The reason, I tell you, is always the same: His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name: His ineffable effable Effanineffable Deep and inscrutable singular Name.

mixing Memory and desire

When you notice a cat in profound meditation, The reason, I tell you, is always the same: His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name.

Some of the verse of Tennyson shows immense technical skill, is better than anything of Shelley or Swinburne.43 I cite Tennyson's consummate skill to show that it is not merely a question of the slipshod, or of a degeneration of the ear. It is something deeper than that. It is a further stage in the disintegration of the intellect, the further separation of sound, image and thought.

I say to you: Make perfect your will. I say: take no thought of the harvest, But only of proper sowing.