Quotes About Thought

A subtle thought that is in error may yet give rise to fruitful inquiry that can establish truths of great value.

I suppose he's entitled to his opinion, but I don't suppose it very hard.

The tyranny that now exists is actual. That which may exist in the future is potential. If we are always to draw back from change with the thought that the change may be for the worse, then there is no hope at all of ever escaping injustice.

To think, and to feel, constitute the two grand divisions of men of genius - the men of reasoning and the men of imagination.

If I have done the public any service, it is due to my patient thought.

Well-developed introverts can deal ably with the world around them when necessary, but they do their best work inside their heads, in reflection. Similarly well-developed extraverts can deal effectively with ideas, but they do their best work externally, in action.

Esta manera de considerar la filosofía sostiene la fe de Berlin en el pluralismo.

Every passion or wicked thought, every affliction or crime, every rebellion or catastrophe necessarily casts its shadow before it long before it manifests itself in real life.

Man is free in his imagination, but bound by his reason.

In the even more congested times that await us, literature must aim at the maximum concentration of poetry and of thought.

we can not love or think except in fragments of time each of which goes along its own trajectory and immediately disappears.

Life, thought the naked man, was a hell, with rare moments recalling some ancient paradise.

Long novels written today are perhaps a contradiction: the dimension of time has been shattered, we cannot love or think except in fragments of time each of which goes off along its own trajectory and immediately disappears. We can rediscover the continuity of time only in the novels of that period when time no longer seemed stopped and did not yet seem to have exploded, a period that lasted no more than a hundred years.

we cannot love or think except in fragments of time each of which goes off along its own trajectory and immediately disappears.

All this is like a dream which the word bears within itself and which, passing through him who writes, is freed and frees him.

Escape, is one of those words I cannot hear without abandoning myself to endless ruminations

Long novels written today are perhaps a contradiction: the dimension of time has been shattered, we cannot love or think except in fragments of time each of which goes off along its own trajectory and immediately disappears.

The thing I'd like most in the world," I said to her, since at this point I might as well go on talking with her, "is to make clocks run backward." The woman gives some ordinary answer, such as, "You only have to move the hands." "No, with thought, by concentrating until I force time back," I say.

Yes, you are in your room, calm; you open the book to page one, no, to the last page, first you want to see how long it is. It's not too long, fortunately. Long novels written today are perhaps a contradiction: the dimension of time has been shattered, we cannot love or think except in fragments of time each of which goes off along its own trajectory and immediately disappears.

But what enhanced for Kublai every event or piece of news reported by his inarticulate informer was the space that remained around it, a void not filled with words. The descriptions of cities Marco Polo visited had this virtue: you could wander through them in thought, become lost, stop and enjoy the cool air, or run off.

Are you reading or daydreaming?

At all these reflections of mine, Mr. Okeda remained silent, as he does always when I talk too much and am unable finally to extricate myself from my tangled reasoning.

Reading," he says, "is always this: there is a thing that is there, a thing made of writing, a solid, material object, which cannot be changed, and through this thing we measure ourselves against something else that is not present, something else that belongs to the immaterial, invisible world, because it can only be thought, imagined, or because it was once and is no longer, past, lost, unattainable, in the land of the dead...

Egli la vide dinanzi a sé come su un altare, la personificazione del pensiero e del dolore e l'amò sempre, se amore è ammirazione e desiderio. Ella rappresentava tutto quello di nobile ch'egli in quel periodo avesse pensato od osservato.