Quotes About Consciousness

Because the only reality is subjective.

Perhaps they don't realize where they were, so they went on living.

Si tu n'arrives pas à le dire avec des mots,n'en parle pas: ce n'est pas grave...

Einen wachen Geist haben, sich nicht betäuben!

No mind of a creature can attain Him.

Meditating means bringing the mind back to something again and again. Thus, we all meditate, but unless we direct it in some way, we meditate on ourselves and on our own problems, reinforcing our self-clinging.

Do you believe that you will die? Yes, man is mortal, I am a man, ergo... No, that isn't what I mean. I know that you know that. What I'm asking is: Have you ever actually believed it, believe it completely, believe not with your mind but with your body, actually felt that one day the fingers now holding this very piece of paper will be yellow and icy...?

I stopped and listened. But all I could hear was.. a kind of thudding, and not in me but somewhere near me... my heart.

Everything used to revolve around the sun; now I knew it all revolved around me-slowly, blissfully, squinting its eyes.

So here I am in step with everyone now, and yet I'm still separate from everyone. I am still trembling all over from the agitation I endured, like a bridge after an ancient train has rumbled over it. I am aware of myself. And, of course, the only things that are aware of themselves and conscious of their individuality are irritated eyes, cut fingers, sore teeth. A healthy eye, finger, tooth might as well not even be there. Isn't it clear that individual consciousness is just sickness?

For one second I stared at her like all the others as something that had dropped out of nowhere: She was no longer a number, she was simply a person; she existed as nothing more than the metaphysical substance of the insult committed against OneState. But then some one of her movements-turning, she twisted her hips to the left-and all at once I knew: I know her, I know that body resilient as a ship-my eyes, my lips, my hands know it-in one moment I was absolutely sure of it.

The most agonising thing is to drop doubt into a man about his being a reality, three-dimensional - and not some other kind of reality.

I felt I hadn't breathed since early morning, that my heart had not beat-and only now for the first time I took a breath, only now the floodgates in my chest opened...

Do you believe that you will die? Yes man is mortal I am a man ergo... no that isn't what I mean. I know that you know that. What I am asking is, have you ever actually believed it? Believed it completely? Believed not with your mind but with your body? Actually felt that one the fingers now holding this very piece of paper will be icy and yellow? No, of course you don't believe it. Which is the reason why up until now you haven't jumped from the tenth floor to the pavement.

I feel myself. But it's only the eye with a lash in it, the swollen finger, the infected tooth that feels itself, is conscious of its own individual being. The healthy eye or finger or tooth doesn't seem to exist. So it's clear, isn't it? Self-consciousness is just a disease.

Forget that you're a gram and feel yourself a millionth part of a ton.

Now, think of a square, a living, beautiful square. And imagine that it must tell you about itself, about its life. You understand, a square would scarcely ever think of telling you that all its four angles are equal: this has become so natural, so ordinary to it that it's simply no longer consciously aware of it. And so with me: I find myself continually in this square's position.

Let my notes, like the most sensitive seismograph, record the curve of even the most insignificant vibrations of my brain: for it is precisely such vibrations that are sometimes the forewarning of...

To feel one's self, to be conscious of one's personality, is the lot of an eye inflamed by a cinder, or an infected finger, or a bad tooth. A healthy eye, or finger, or tooth is not felt; it is nonexistent, as it were. Is it not clear, then, that consciousness of oneself is a sickness? Apparently

Ora o conhecimento de si, o reconhecimento da própria individualidade só o têm o olho onde acaba de cair um cisco, o dedo esfolado, o dente dolorido. Quando sãos, o olho, o dedo, o dente não têm existência alguma. Não prova isto claramente que a consciência de si é de facto uma doença?

Kendimi duyumsuyorum. Ama sadece içine kirpik kaçan göz, ÅŸiÅŸmiÅŸ parmak veya çürük diÅŸ kendini duyumsar, bireysel varl???n?n bilincine var?r. SaÄŸl?kl? göz veya parmak ya da diÅŸ varlarm?? gibi görünmezler. Yani gayet aç?k, deÄŸil mi? Kendi kendinin bilincine varmak hastal?kt?r.

Estou diante dum espelho. Pela primeira vez na vida (isso, exactamente, pela primeira vez na vida) estou a ver-me clara, distinta e conscientemente; olho para mim, admirado, como se estivesse a ver alguém diferente de mim.

How awful for you! By the looks of it, you've developed a soul.

felt myself. To feel one's self, to be conscious of one's personality, is the lot of an eye inflamed by a cinder, or an infected finger, or a bad tooth. A healthy eye, or finger, or tooth is not felt; it is non-existent as it were. Is it not clear then, that consciousness of oneself is a sickness?