Quotes About Thoughts

People's minds, particularly the minds of children, are like wells—deep wells full of sweet water. And sometimes, when a particular thought is too unpleasant to bear, the person who has that thought will lock it into a heavy box and throw it into that well. He listens for the splash . . . and then the box is gone. Except it is not, of course. Not really.

I know your mother lives in your head - almost everyone's mother does, I guess - but you can't let her have her way on this one

All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.

In the stutter-flashes of light, the clouds look like huge transparent brains filled with bad thoughts.

I suppose it doesn't matter much. A lot of things don't matter, but it doesn't keep a man from wondering about them, I've noticed.

The exhausted mind is obsession's easiest prey.

That life was richer,' a voice deep in his mind whispered. 'This one is truer,' whispered another, even deeper.

Sure I'd had second thoughts. But thoughts are not choices.

He rolled in his bed, twisting the sheets, grappling with a problem years too big for him, awake in the night like a single sentinel on picket. And sometime after midnight, he slept, too, and then only the wind was awake, prying at the hotel and hooting in its gables under the bright gimlet gaze of the stars.

We'd all be scared if we knew what was swept under the carpet of each other's minds

When dawn was still long hours away, bad thoughts took flesh and began to walk. In the middle of the night thoughts became zombies.

People are only rational on the surface.

There's a gate in our heads, too-that's what I think. One that keeps the insanity in all of us from flooding our intellects. And at critical moments, it swings open and all kinds of weird shit comes flooding through.

Try not to think of a polar bear, Fyodor Dostoyevsky once said, and you will see the cursed thing come to mind every minute.

At night your thoughts have an unpleasant way of slipping their collars and running free.

Shit. The mind gets up to funny tricks, doesn't it? Shadows grow faces.

You see, I may be trying to forget, but I still remember quite a lot.

Soft and sweet and mellow, the song came back and lingered, following her down into a deeper sleep where thought ceased and the faces that came in dreams went unremembered.

My tongue runs like a supermarket conveyor belt on payday.

Feelings are invulnerable to rational thought.

When it comes to memory, we all stack the deck.

His so-fucking-vivid imagination rarely gave him the horrors, but when it did, God help him. God help him once it was warmed up. It was not only warmed up now, it was hot and running on full choke. That there was no sense at all in what he was thinking made not a whit of difference in the dark. In the dark, rationality seemed stupid and logic a dream. In the dark he thought with his skin.

The thought that grieving for a fictional character was absurd did more than cross his mind during his tossings and turnings. For grieving was exactly what he was doing, of course.

Break the lockup of thoughts and live free.