Quotes About Mind

Grief rapes the mind, and I know all about rape.

Let's play a game. There is no gate – oh, you've seen it, I well know. But it is a lie. It is what your mind builds, stone by stone. For your kind love borders. Thresholds, divisions, delineations. To enter a place you believe you must leave another. But look around and you can see. There is no gate, my friend.

the truth of imagination: that it was a weapon the mind drew at every turn, yet as deadly to its wielder as to its conjured foes. Wisdom arrived as one's skill with that weapon grew – we fight every battle with our imaginations: the battles within, the battles in the world beyond. This is the truth of command, and a warrior must learn command, of oneself and of others.

Kruppe has always considered you mere aspects of himself, a half-dozen Hungers among many, as it were. Yet, for all your needs, you would urge what of your master? That he turn back from his flight, of course. That one's own skull is too worthy a chamber for deception to reign—and yet Kruppe assures you from long experience that all deceit is born in the mind and there it is nurtured while virtues starve.

Plan on living for ever, Kallor?' 'Yes, I do.' 'What if your stupidity gets you killed?' Kallor's grin was feral. 'It hasn't yet.' Skintick glanced back again, eyes bright, and all at once he laughed. 'I am changing my mind about you.

She thought to resume crawling, then consciousness slipped away again.

Perhaps that is the truth of madness, when a mind can do nothing but make endless lists of the mundane tasks awaiting it, as proof of its sanity. Mend those nets. Wind those strands. See? I have not lost the meaning of my life.

your mind, it would seem, these are but titles. Responsibilities one grows into, as it were. But the truth of it is, the title awaits only those who have already grown into a person worthy of the responsibility.

In a body with nothing to do, the mind will dance.

What are gods, after all, if not the perfect victims?" He smiled, raising his hands and fluttering his fingers. "For Kruppe, whose sleight of hand is matched only by his sleight of mind? Perfect victims of confidence, claims Kruppe, ever blinded by arrogance, ever convinced of infallibility. Is it not a wonder that they have survived this long?

It's because things are, Skanarow. All the complications we suffer through are hatched inside our own skulls.' 'Really? Doesn't make them any less real, though. Does it?

Yet identities persisted. On a personal level. Freedom was little more than a tattered net, draped over a host of minor, self-imposed bindings. Its stripping away changed little, except, perhaps, the comforting delusion of the ideal. Mind bound to self, self to flesh, flesh to bone. As the Errant wills, we are a latticework of cages, and whatever flutters within knows but one freedom, and that is death.

Hurt was nothing. Was meaningless. But no, there was value in pain, if only to remind oneself that one still lived. When nothing normal could be regained, ever, then other pleasures had to be found. Cultivated, the body and mind taught anew, to delight in a darker strain.

Is not the mind a wondrous world? That thoughts and aspirations can cavort with such glee? That desires can spool out into such wild mess as to tangle every sense, and confound the spirit in a welter of delicious indulgence! Reality stands no chance against such inner creations.

Exactly. Peace of mind." "Fatal delusion, you mean.

Should your willpower prove unequal to the task, I am afraid that what remains of your sanity will be torn away. Your mind itself will be shredded by the maelstrom, leaving you a drooling wreck.' After a moment, he added, 'Such a state of being may not be desirable. Of course, should you achieve it, you will not care one way or the other, which you may consider a blessing.

Ignorance is like a seed and where it is planted in the guise of a virtue, it becomes a weed that chokes the mind until all reason is lost.

And why would a monk slit my throat, Stillwater?' She shrugged. 'Who can figure out the mind of a monk?

Karsa spoke in a low voice, 'Tovald Nom, listen well. A warrior who followed me, Delum Thord, was struck on the head. His skull cracked and leaked thought-blood. His mind could not walk back up the path. He was left helpless, harmless. I, too, have been struck on the head. My skull is cracked and I have leaked thought-blood ???????????' Actually it was drool.

The word is the atom of the mind

My heart was deep space and my head was maths

I'm thinking about babies. Emma's baby. Jack and my baby. Growing in my mind, if not in my womb.

Anyone who has become entranced by the sound of water drops in the darkness of a ruin can attest to the extraordinary capacity of the ear to carve a volume into the void of darkness. The space traced by the ear becomes a cavity sculpted in the interior of the mind.

God always starts with renewing the mind before he revives the emotions and redirects the will.