Quotes About Thoughts

I wasn't thinking that I was two horrors back to back; I was thinking these were characters that I want to play.

I do believe as human beings we are a great mass of contradictions.

In terms of the brain, you can in a crude way think of the human brain as a computer.

The human mind can be sexy.

The question I've asked more often during our marriage, if not out loud, if not to the person who could answer. I supposed these questions stormcloud over every marriage: What are you thinking how are you feeling? Who are you? What have we done to each other? What will we do?

Daydreams can be dangerous.

She had what the Victorians would call a finely shaped head . You could imagine the skull quite easily. I'd know her head anywhere. And what's inside it. I think of that, too: her mind. Her brain, all those coils, and her thoughts shuttling through those coils like fast, frantic centipedes. Like a child, I picture opening her skull, unspooling her brain and sifting through it, trying to catch and pin down her thoughts. What are you thinking, Amy?

I often don't say things out loud, even when I should.

My brain is so busy with Nick thoughts, it's a swarm inside my head: Nicknicknicknicknick! And when I picture his mind, I hear my name as a shy crystal ping that occurs once, maybe twice, a day and quickly subsides. I just wish he thought about me as much as I do him. Is that wrong? I don't even know anymore.

I think of that, too: her mind. Her brain, all those coils, and her thoughts shuttling through those coils like fast, frantic centipedes. Like a child, I picture opening her skull, unspooling her brain and sifting through it, trying to catch and pin down her thoughts. What are you thinking, Amy?

What are you thinking, Amy? The question I've asked most often during our marriage, if not out loud, if not to the person who could answer. I suppose these questions stormcloud over every marriage: What are you thinking? How are you feeling? Who are you? What have we done to each other? What will we do?

I carry an inner monologue, but the words often don't reach my lips

I might as well have said dot dot dot aloud.

And when I picture his mind, I hear my name as a shy crystal ping that occurs once, maybe twice, a day and quickly subsides. I just wish he thought about me as much as I do him.

I thought a lot about killing myself—it's a hobby today

I was lying in bed thinking of killing myself, a hobby of mine.

Sei pazza a pensare quel che stai pensando. Sei pazza a non pensarlo.

who spends so much time worrying about

I've always been partial to the image of liquor as lubrication—a layer of protection from all the sharp thoughts in your head.

I often don't say things out loud, even when I should. I contain and compartmentalize to a disturbing degree: In my belly-basement are hundreds of bottles of

I carry on an inner monologue, but the words often don't reach my lips. She looks nice today, I'd think, but somehow it wouldn't occur to me to say it out loud.

I remained mostly silent. I was thinking my own questions, the same questions I'd thought for years, the ominous refrain of our marriage: What are you thinking, Amy? How are you feeling? Who are you? What have we done to each other? What will we do?

Había sido un comentario grosero y de mal gusto. Mi cerebro eructaba pensamientos inapropiados en los momentos más inoportunos. Gases mentales que no conseguía controlar.

I suppose these questions stormcloud over every marriage: What are you thinking? How are you feeling? Who are you> What have we done to each other? What will we do?