Quotes About Consciousness

Within our own way, we all know the answers to the questions that we seek … it is quite simple. We have the knowledge before we come here to our earthly existence. We have been given the way forward and the answers that we need; we just have to look deep within ourselves and know that they are there. Similar to reading hidden messages that are encrypted, we have only to uncover the meaning of the code to unlock a vast amount of knowledge and information. Ben

Meditation is the key that opens the door to all the knowledge and understanding in life—certainly to our current lives and also to the many other lives we have led before. What

If we wish, we can draw on any amount of information through tapping into our own soul's knowing.

The P300 (whose name derives from the fact that it is a positive wave that occurs, in adults, about 300 milliseconds after the onset of a stimulus) is perhaps the closest thing we have to an index of conscious mental experience.

When the month of the Twins had ended, the men said to their shadows: 'You are I'…Thus the two became one, and through this collision the formidable broke out, precisely that spring of consciousness that one calls culture and which lasted until the time of Christ. But the fish indicated the moment when what was united split, according to the eternal law of contrasts, into an underworld and upperworld…But the separated cannot

The mind is infinitely larger than the world it inhabits. There is more to the human brain than machinery or meat. I believe in the soul, I thought suddenly. Everything I know about the brain tells me not to, but I believe in it still.

In my sleepwalking years, I learned the existence of another dimension. I do not inhabit it any longer. But somehow, it continues to inhabit me.

Sometimes he awoke with a feeling of fragments afloat in his sleep, but he couldn't seem to grasp them and put them together into something worthy of telling at the ritual.

Jonas was careful about language.

A veces es más fácil recuperar los recuerdos perdidos y los sueños olvidados no pensando en ellos.

But suddenly Jonas had noticed, following the path of the apple through the air with his eyes, that the piece of fruit had—well, this was the part that he couldn't adequately understand—the apple had changed. Just for an instant. It had changed in mid-air, he remembered. Then it was in his hand, and he looked at it carefully, but it was the same apple. Unchanged. The same size and shape: a perfect sphere. The same nondescript shade, about the same shade as his own tunic.

Jonas stood for a moment beside his bike, startled. It had happened again: the thing that he thought of now as "seeing beyond." This time it had been Fiona who had undergone that fleeting indescribable change. As he looked up and toward her going through the door, it happened; she changed. Actually, Jonas thought, trying to recreate it in his mind, it wasn't Fiona in her entirety. It seemed to be just her hair. And just for that flickering instant.

Well, one couldn't help one's thoughts. One could help opening one's mouth and saying something really stupid, though.

She inhaled the complex odors, from vegetation, water vapor, industrial waste gases. Barrayar permitted an amazing amount of air dumping, as if . . . well, air was free, here. Nobody measured it; there were no air processing and filtration fees. Did these people even realize how rich they were? All the air they could breathe, just by stepping outdoors, taken for granted as casually as they took frozen water falling from the sky.

Iselle swallowed. It was clear her mind was frantically churning over responses. She'd stifled her first scream of outrage, and had not the trick of falling down in a convincing dead faint. She stood trapped and conscious.

Though the Ista they thought they loved, she supposed, was an imaginary one, a woman who existed only in their own minds, part icon, part habit. The reflection did not depress her unduly, now that she knew someone who loved the Ista who was real. She fell asleep thinking of him.

How could I have died and gone to hell without noticing the transition?

The sickening crunch threw Penric out of his coffin-sized bunk and onto the deck of his scarcely larger cabin, and from deep sleep into frantically confused consciousness in the same moment.

The real you doesn't eat, or drink, or think, or sleep, or die.

the Aeon of Horus we identify with the self-radiant, ever-living sun. All magical pantheons have become aspects of ourselves. We, like the sun, do not die. Death, like night, is an illusion. Life is now seen as a process of continual growth and humanity is developing a consciousness of the continuity of existence that will eventually dissolve the sting of death.53

Remember, these are levels of consciousness, and not places or heavens located somewhere out in space.

The part of the soul that corresponds to Yetzirah, the Formative World, is called the Ruach—the intellect

Cogito ergo sum—I think, therefore I am.

For the first time in four billion years a living creature had contemplated himself and heard with a sudden, unaccountable loneliness, the whisper of the wind in the night reeds.