Quotes About Mind

I don't pretend to understand the American mind," spat Goldberg. "They often do things that make no sense to me.

Rosalia. Rosa e lia. Rosa che ha inebriato, rosa che ha confuso, rosa che ha sventato, rosa che ha rá½¹so, il mio cervello s'è mangiato.

Fortunate is he whose mind has the power to probe the causes of things and trample underfoot all terrors and inexorable fate.

Here, too, the honorable finds its due and there are tears for passing things; here, too, things mortal touch the mind.

The sky and the lands, the watery plains, the moon's gleaming face, the Titanic Sun and the stars are all strengthened by Spirit working within them, and by Mind, which is blended into all the vast universe and pervades every part of it, enlivening the whole mass.

sunt lacrimae rerum et mentem

Degeneres animos timor arguit:

All thinking (is) an effort to make thought escape from the thinker's mind past all obstacles as completely as possible: all society is an attempt to seise and influence and coerce each thought as it appears and force it to yield to another.

What does the brain matter compared with the heart?

There is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind.

Yet there are moments when the walls of the mind grow thin; when nothing is unabsorbed, and I could fancy that we might blow so vast a bubble that the sun might set and rise in it and we might take the blue of midday and the black of midnight and be cast off and escape from here and now.

My brain hums with scraps of poetry and madness.

It is strange how a scrap of poetry works in the mind and makes the legs move in time to it along the road.

Every secret of a writer's soul, every experience of his life, every quality of his mind is written large in his works.

My mind turned by anxiety, or other cause, from its scrutiny of blank paper, is like a lost child–wandering the house, sitting on the bottom step to cry.

But Time, unfortunately, though it makes animals and vegetables bloom and fade with amazing punctuality, has no such simple effect upon the mind of man. The mind of man, moreover, works with equal strangeness upon the body of time. An hour, once it lodges in the queer element of the human spirit, may be stretched to fifty or a hundred times its clock length; on the other hand, an hour may be accurately represented on the timepiece of the mind by one second.

No sooner have you feasted on beauty with your eyes than your mind tells you that beauty is vain and beauty passes

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.

They lack suggestive power. And when a book lacks suggestive power, however hard it hits the surface of the mind it cannot penetrate within.

Style is a very simple matter; it is all rhythm. Once you get that, you can't use the wrong words. But on the other hand here am I sitting after half the morning, crammed with ideas, and visions, and so on, and can't dislodge them, for lack of the right rhythm. Now this is very profound, what rhythm is, and goes far deeper than any words. A sight, an emotion, creates this wave in the mind, long before it makes words to fit it.

She has no body as others have. People have no meaning to her. She has no answer for them. Her mind steps into emptiness, alone.

There is the strange power we have of changing facts by the force of the imagination.

Change was incessant, and change perhaps would never cease. High battlements of thought, habits that had seemed as durable as stone, went down like shadows at the touch of another mind and left a naked sky and fresh stars twinkling in it.

Thinking is my fighting.