Quotes About Clarity

Affectus, qui passio est, desinit esse passio simulatque eius claram et distinctam formamus ideam.

We are living in an age of specialists but sometimes a specialist is a man who no longer sees the forest of truth for the trees of fact.

El sentimiento que se convierte en sufrimiento, deja de serlo en cuanto nos formamos una idea clara y precisa del mismo.

Nadie niega que el hombre en ciertas circunstancias no puede comprender el sentido, sino que ha de interpretarlo, lo que ni mucho menos significa que esta interpretación se haga arbitrariamente. En efecto, a cada pregunta corresponde sólo una respuesta, la correcta, y a cada problema sólo una solución, la que vale; así también a cada situación corresponde un solo sentido, que es el único verdadero.

Si el hombre en medio de todo este torbellino de estímulos quiere sobrevivir y resistir a los medios de comunicación de masas, debe saber qué es o no lo importante, qué es o no lo fundamental; en una palabra, qué es lo que tiene sentido y qué es lo que no lo tiene.

Careful," Miller snapped, like a judge warning a wayward attorney, "we're not talking about feelings or opinions. We're sticking to the facts right now.

obscuris vera involvens:

You're the only person I've ever met who seems to have the faintest conception of what I mean when I say a thing.

Night had come—night that she loved of all times, night in which the reflections in the dark pool of the mind shine more clearly than by day.

Marvelous are the innocent.

You wish to be a poet; you wish to be a lover. But the splendid clarity of your intelligence, and the remorseless honestly of your intellect bring you to a halt.

I like books whose virtue is all drawn together in a page or two. I like sentences that don't budge though armies cross them.

One wanted fifty pairs of eyes to see with, she reflected. Fifty pairs of eyes were not enough to get round that one woman with, she thought.

To be myself (I note) I need the illumination of other people's eyes, and therefore cannot be entirely sure what is my self.

You're infinitely simpler than I am… That's the difficulty.

They had been written in the red light of emotion and not in the white light of truth.

but after reading a chapter or two a shadow seemed to lie across the page. It was a straight dark bar, a shadow shaped something like the letter 'I.' One began dodging this way and that to catch a glimpse of the landscape behind it. Whether that was indeed a tree or a woman walking I was not quite sure. Back one was always hailed to the letter 'I.

I know this room too well - this view too well - I am getting it all out of focus, because I can't walk through it.

But it is always a question whether I wish to avoid these glooms. These weeks give one a plunge into deep waters. One goes down into the well & nothing protects one from the assault of truth.

But words have been used too often; touched and turned, and left exposed to the dust of the street. The words we seek hang close to the tree. We come at dawn and find them sweet beneath the leaf.

I am not sinuous or suave; I sit among you abrading your softness with my hardness, quenching the silver-grey flickering moth-wing quiver of words with the green spurt of my clear eyes.

Now then is my chance to find out what is of great importance, and I must be careful, and tell no lies.

Emerged from the tentative ways, the obscurities and dazzle of youth, we look straight in front of us, ready for what may come (the door opens, the door keeps on opening). All is real; all is firm without shadow or illusion. Beauty rides our brows.

I have had my vision