Quotes About Consciousness

The defining function of the artist is to cherish consciousness.

I regard consciousness as fundamental. I regard matter as derivative from consciousness. We cannot get behind consciousness. Everything that we talk about, everything that we regard as existing, postulates consciousness.

As a man who has devoted his whole life to the most clearheaded science, to the study of matter, I can tell you as a result of my research about the atoms this much: There is no matter as such! All matter originates and exists only by virtue of a force which brings the particles of an atom to vibration and holds this most minute solar system of the atom together...We must assume behind this force the existence of a conscious and intelligent Mind. This Mind is the matrix of all matter.

A man is not what he thinks he is, but what he thinks, he is.

If the awareness of our limitations begins to limit or to dim our value consciousness as well—as happens, for instance, in old age with regard to the values of youth—then we have already started the movement of devaluation which will end with the defamation of the world and all its values. Only a timely act of resignation can deliver us from this tendency toward self-delusion.

I love men too — not merely individuals, but every one. But I love them with the consciousness of egoism; I love them because love makes me happy, I love because loving is natural to me, because it pleases me. I know no "commandment of love." I have a fellow-feeling with every feeling being, and their torment torments, their refreshment refreshes me too; I can kill them, not torture them.

Mensch, es spukt in deinem Kopfe!

The true human being doesn't lie in the future, an object of longing, but rather it lies in the present, existing and actual. However and whoever I may be, joyful and sorrowful, a child or an old man, in confidence or doubt, asleep or awake, I am it. I am the true human being.

Your nervous system cannot tell the difference between an imagined experience and a real experience. In either case, it reacts automatically to information that you give to it from your forebrain. Your nervous system reacts appropriately to what you think or imagine to be true.

Sentimentele sunt pamantul in care creste gandurile si ideile.

Your nervous system cannot tell the difference between an imagined experience and a real experience. In either case, it reacts automatically to information that you give to it from your forebrain.

Thought is a movement of electrons and consciousness is a merely a chemical action.

create experience and control it, in the laboratory of our minds.

When you become too consciously concerned about "what others think"; when you become too careful to consciously try to please other people; when you become too sensitive to the real or fancied disapproval of other people—then you have excessive negative feedback, inhibition, and poor performance.

Since you make them evil or good by your own thoughts about them, it is the ruling of your thoughts which proves to be your principal concern.

It's funny, as you live through something you're not aware of it.

There is an innate innocence in the concious Vata personality. A delicate, sensitive, and aware nature reveals the graceful Vata component of any type.

Vivre (tel que je l'entends) c'est exister dans une certaine conception du temps. Mais se rappeler c'est se défaire de la notion du temps. Chaque souvenir, aussi lointain soit-il, a lieu "maintenant", au moment où il apparaît dans l'esprit. Plus on se souvient d'une chose, plus le cerveau a la possibilité d'affiner l'expérience originale, car un souvenir ne se visionne pas, il se recrée.

It became clear to me how men die. I saw that it is not so hard. Or easy. It is nothing. One just starts living less and less, being less and less, thinking, feeling and knowing less and less. The rich flow of life dries up, and only a thin thread of uncertain consciousness remains, more and more meager, more and more insignificant. And then nothing happens, there is not anything, there is nothing. And nothing matters—it is all the same.

Niko nikome ne može natovariti toliko muke na vrat koliko ?ovjek sam sebi.

Svijet ne spava, svijet nikada sav ne spava, ?ini mi se da nisam sam.

San je ono što se želi, a život je bu?enje.

A onda mi je došlo do svijesti da je opasno i ovo radosno posmatranje, nisam se više osje?ao nadmo?an, ni skriven, oživjelo je nešto neželjeno u meni. Nije to bila strast, ve? možda gore od toga: uspomena.

Sve što nam se dešava, nije stvarnost, ve? naš san o stvarnosti. Kakva je onda ta stvarnost, i da li postoji? Ili je sam san stvarnost? Ko nas to drži u snu, i ko nas budi? Je li smrt bu?enje? Je li život u smrti?