Quotes About Consciousness

I have a very good sense of my body and where it's at. Although I don't feel the ground in the same way that somebody else would, I'm very aware... I can feel pressure, and I know exactly where my toes are and exactly where my heel is.

All human beings are also dream beings. Dreaming ties all mankind together.

Action seems to follow feeling, but really action and feeling go together; and by regulating the action, which is under the more direct control of the will, we can indirectly regulate the feeling, which is not.

You can't quite catch sight of yourself as you go about your life, that's all. Your body doesn't contain its spirit, just as the mirror has relinquished your portrait. You are elsewhere

The entire time I was in the camp it was as if I had a double personality. My real self seemed to be observing what was happening to my physical self.

It is myself I have never met, whose face is pasted on the underside of my mind.

Do you still snore as loudly as you used to?" "I don't know," said Branwise, taking the question too seriously. "When I'm asleep I can't hear myself.

Do you still snore as loudly as you used to?" "I don't know," said Branwise, taking the question too seriously. "When I'm asleep I cain't hear myself.

Most things a person does," she said to the dark liquid of the goblet, "they do for several complicated reasons. I'm rarely certain that my motives are pure.

God is not a judgemental giant sitting up in heaven, it's a force within us all - we are light bulbs in the electrical system of the universe.

I tend to forget that my measurement of time is designed to distract me from what's really happening.

My friend Isabel says, When you're writing even a short novel, with at least a couple of subplots, and God only knows how many characters, your brain holds the volume of it beyond the ability of your consciousness. Of course .

You aren't the same person after a good night's sleep as you are after a sleepless night. But which person is you?

How many miles had they come? Less than halfway, and already Caroline had the sense that a separation such as this could put more than miles between folks, could right this minute be working changes she might not be entirely conscious of and might never realize at all unless she and Eliza saw each other again.

When you are in my dreams, you have a face, and I know that face to be yours, but no matter how true they are, dreams are not real, and I don't know whether my dreeming mind has ever succeeded in catching your red face.

Certain brands of guilt can be inculcated in a secular way but other brands of guilt can only be obtained with reference to the metaphysical.

These are stories but the pain they contain is immeasurable. The impact of these losses requires a consciousness beyond most human ability. We grow weary, numb, alienated, and then begin to forget, to put it all away just to be able to move on. But even the putting away is an abusive act. The experiencing, the remembering, the hiding, the overcoming—all leave their scars.

And this prime hour of fragrance is the hour so many miss upon beds of sloth, never half knowing what a beautiful, marvellous world is around them. Not all the long hours of day can possibly bring back again the charm and blessedness of this, either to the body or to the soul.

I was asleep at the wheel while barreling down the road of life on cruise control, believing all the while that I was going somewhere important.

of your consciousness. Instead of single-mindedly pursuing some goal,

Let My thoughts burst freely upon your consciousness, stimulating abundant Life.

You had to make yourself know about the good things

I just couldn't understand how you could go from being alive, from having molecules and blood cells constantly shifting around inside you, and thought processes and a mind full of memories and dreams and love and hate, and in just one tiny second these miraculous things stop and you're dead. How could all that disappear? What happened to your soul, your essence, your wonder? Just because a muscle stops beating? It made absolutely no sense.

Like a man who pinches himself to make sure he still has feeling, Chimen read to reassure himself that he was still alive.