Quotes About Thoughts

We speak of nature; it is folly; there is no such thing as nature; what we call by that misleading name is merely heredity and training. We have no thoughts of our own, no opinions of our own; they are transmitted to us, trained into us.

Kaybettiklerimin aras?nda, en çok akl?m? özlüyorum. ..

At meetings I've heard people say proudly that they have no original thoughts, that everything they say they learned in meetings or from reading the Big Book. Wouldn't that be nice? I have so many original thoughts I have to take medication for it.

depression forges a connection in the brain between sad mood and negative thoughts, so that even normal sadness can reawaken major negative thoughts.

it wasn't necessarily events themselves that drove our emotions but our beliefs about or interpretations of those events.

Do not wake me from this slumber, but be assured that just as I have wept much, I have also wandered many roads with my thoughts.

If one invests some interest in, for example, a tree and begins to form some thoughts about this tree then writes these thoughts down, further examining the meanings that surface, allowing for unconscious associations to take place, writing all this down as well, until the subject of the tree branches off into the subject of the shelf, that person will enjoy immense psychological benefits.

When Unguarded Thoughts Returned Over Breakfast --He needs to eat and so opens the fridge to retrieve along with bread a brick of butter. --[illegible], Paris. July 26, 1988

dozens of hours just blinking by, lost in the twist of so many dangerous sentences.

The inner labyrinth of the psyche . . .

The words. Why did they have to exist? Without them, there wouldn't be any of this.

There are hundreds of thoughts per every word spoken, and that's if they're spoken at all.

Very quickly, very suddenly, words fell through my mind. They landed on the floor of my thoughts, and in there, down there, I started to pick the words up. They were excerpts of truth gathered from inside me.

He watched them grow, until eventually, great forests of words had risen throughout Germany.... It was a nation of farmed thoughts.

I love and hate this place because it is full of words.

Don't think, I told myself. Think nothingness. But even nothingness was something. It was a thought.

But now those thoughts weren't thoughts at all, they were clouds of landed punches, and every one fell true.

I collect my thoughts as if they will stain me, murder me, and then resurrect me." Markus Zusak, When Dogs Cry

The moon was undone now, free to move and rise and fall and drip on the boy's face, making him nice and murky, like his thoughts.

His first plan of attack was to plant the words in as many areas of his homeland as possible. He planted them day and night, and cultivated them. He watched them grow, until eventually, great forests of words had risen throughout Germany.... it was a nation of farmed thoughts.

Very quickly, very suddenly, words fell through my mind. They landed on the floor of my thoughts, and in there, down there, I started to pick the words up. They were excerpts of truth gather from inside me. Even in the night, in bed, they woke me. They painted themselves onto the ceiling. They burned themselves onto the sheets of memory laid out in my mind. When I woke up the next day, I wrote the words down, on a torn-up piece of paper. And to me, the world changed color that morning.

Hänen ensimmäinen hyökkäyssuunnitelmansa oli sellainen, että hän istutti kotimaahansa sanoja mahdollisimman monille alueille. Hän istutti yötä päivää ja hoiti niitä. Han katseli niiden kasvua, kunnes lopulta kaikkialle oli kohonnut suuria sanametsiä...Saksa oli viljeltyjen ajatusten maa.

Ich fürchte ebenfalls, dass am Ende gar nichts zu Ende sein wird. Die Dinge gehen einfach weiter, solange die Erinnerung das Sagen hat und immer eine weiche Stelle in deinen Gedanken findet, um an die Oberfläche zu schlüpfen.

Diese Bilder waren die Welt, und es brodelte in ihr, während sie inmitten der schönen Bücher mit ihren manikürten Titeln saß. Es kochte in ihr, während sie die Seiten anschaute, die bis zum Erbrechen voll mit Absätzen und Worten waren. Ihr Mistkerle, dachte sie. Ihr geliebten Mistkerle.