Quotes About Consciousness

Habit makes it dangerously easy to become numb to our own existence. For

I've learned to resist my inclination to meet an expectation unthinkingly, and to ask, "Why am I meeting this expectation, anyway?

Habit makes it dangerously easy to become numb to our own existence.

We fill up space as if it were a pie shell, with things whose opacity further obstructs our ability to see what is already there. OBITUARY One of the largest sheep ranches in northern Wyoming went under this week.

Twin terrors: to be awake; to be asleep.

I sense tenir consciència s'encaminà cap a l'església amb l'ànim de recollir-se en qualsevol devoció per bé que comportés el vinclament de l'ànima i, amb ell, la desaparició total de l'existència.

totdeauna r?mîne în conÈ™tiin?? ceva din sofismele strecurate în ea; p?streaz? un iz, ca dup? o b?utur? rea./ ... il reste toujours dans la conscience quelque chose des sophismes qu'on y a versés; elle en garde l'arrière-goût,comme d'une liqueur mauvaise.(©BeQ)

But life is not a series of deeds. My life is my thoughts.

But it is sufficient to reflect for a moment, in order to understand that this world was not made for such creatures as we are. Thought, which is developed by a miracle in the nerves of the cells in our brain, powerless, ignorant and confused as it is, and as it will always remain, makes all of us who are intellectual beings eternal and wretched exiles on earth.

In that case I was a somnambulist — was living, without knowing it, that double, mysterious life which makes us doubt whether there are not two beings in us — whether a strange, unknowable, and invisible being does not, during our moments of mental and physical torpor, animate the inert body, forcing it to a more willing obedience than it yields to ourselves.

Acaso ha dejado de funcionar en mí una de las imperceptibles teclas del teclado cerebral?

He felt better, pleased to have understood, to have caught himself out, and to have revealed the other self which is to be found in each of us.

Similar phenomena occur in dreams, and lead us through the most unlikely phantasmagoria, without causing us any surprise, because our verifying apparatus and our sense of control have gone to sleep, while our imaginative faculty wakes and works.

Le monde possède déjà le rêve d'un temps dont il doit maintenant posséder la conscience pour le vivre réellement.

Everything that was directly lived has receded into a representation.

Consciousness of desire and desire for consciousness are the same project

Lenta pero inexorablemente, arrastrándose sobre mi conciencia e imponiéndose a cualquier otra impresión, llegó un temor vertiginoso a lo desconocido, un miedo tanto mayor cuando que no podía analizarlo y que parecía concernir a una furtiva amenaza que se aproximaba..., no la muerte, sino algo sin nombre, un ente inusitado indeciblemente más espantoso y aborrecible.

Immortality is the condition of a dead man who doesn't believe he is dead.

How little does the earth self know life and its extent! How little, indeed, ought it to know for its own tranquility!

Men of broader intellect know that there is no sharp distinction betwixt the real and the unreal; that all things appear as they do only by virtue of the delicate individual physical and mental media through which we are made conscious of them; but the prosaic materialism of the majority condemns as madness the flashes of super-sight which penetrate the common veil of obvious empiricism.

Ideas and theories, I have suggested, are like quicksilver in our hands. We can lose an idea altogether by being too tight fisted or too open handed, but if we carry an idea we cannot avoid imposing our own shape upon it. And when we do, we ought to know what we have done, for only in this way does the practice of history raise the consciousness of us all.

Where does madness leave off and reality begin?

Men of broader intellect know that there is no sharp distinction betwixt the real and the unreal; that all things appear as they do only by virtue of the delicate individual physical and mental media through which we are made

It was in mid-summer, when the alchemy of Nature transmutes the sylvan landscape to one vivid and almost homogeneous mass of green; when the senses are well-nigh intoxicated with the surging seas of moist verdure and the subtly indefinable odours of the soil and the vegetation. In such surroundings the mind loses its perspective; time and space become trivial and unreal, and echoes of a forgotten prehistoric past beat insistently upon the enthralled consciousness.