Quotes About Thoughts

Yo os haría una pregunta, señor ¿por qué, entre todas ls ideas funestas que pasan por la cabeza de una religiosa desesperada, no está la de pegarle fuego a la casa?

With a certain frustration I knew I spoke too soon, too urgently. I wanted to get out of the way the things I knew to say, wanted to say, the things I'd been thinking, all in the hope of moving into the unforeseen.

Sooner or later the mind grasps at a thought and follows it into the labyrinth, one thought branching into another. Then the labyrinth caves in on itself and you find yourself outside. You were never inside—it was a dream.

In those days he'd known how to sit still. He'd learned to live a good part of each day in the silence under the world. Now the world lived in his mind, it colonized his solitude like a virus, thoughts crawled, shot, rained through his meditation, and every one pierced him.

under Midwestern clouds like great grey brains

Jesus, Dolores, you've got to get yourself together. You've got responsibilities. Think about those sometimes - okay? - and get your fucking head right. Those were the last words his wife heard from him. He'd closed the door and walked down the stairs, paused on the last step. He thought of going back. He thought of going back up the stairs and into the apartment and somehow making it right. Or, if not right, at least softer. Softer. That would have been nice.

For a moment-maybe even a succession of moments and none sharp enough to point to as the cause-he'd been happy.

Lying on the floor, with the carved panels of the ceiling flickering dimly above, I found myself thinking that I had always heretofore assumed that the tendency of eigh­teenth-century ladies to swoon was due to tight stays; now I rather thought it might be due to the idiocy of eighteenth-century men.

but, like many ideas, that one was more appealing in concept than in execution

I can hear. Hear them. It. Don't you hear?" It was a struggle to speak, to form coherent thoughts. The call here was different; not the beehive sound of Craigh na Dun, but a hum like the vibration of the air following the striking of a great bell. I could feel it ringing in the long bones of my arms, echoing through pectoral girdle and spine. Jamie

Ä°nsan hayat?n ve sonsuz varl???n getirdiÄŸi bitmez düÅŸüncelere bazen ara vermek istiyordu, varl???n?n doÄŸas? nas?l planlanm?? olursa olsun, oradan kaçmak istiyordu.

She supposed she ought to feel exposed in some way, the privacy of her thoughts and dreams laid bare to him—but she trusted him with them. He would never use those things against her.

Roger was on the whole rather glad that her father was not present, since he would certainly have taken paternal umbrage at the sorts of thoughts Roger was thinking; thoughts

memory, making

Still less could I be afraid of those ghosts who touch my thoughts in passing. Any library is filled with them. I can take a book from dusty shelves, and be haunted by the thoughts of one long dead, still lively as ever in their winding sheet of words.

But he found the wall of prayer a barricade between himself and the wicked sly thoughts and, closing his eyes briefly, felt his father walk beside him and Brian Fraser's last kiss soft as the wind on his cheek. —

clouds of distress. "I—well Ã¢â'¬Â¦ I think so.

Ye think of me, Jamie, and Jenny and Lallybroch. Ye'll not see us, but we'll be here nonetheless and thinking of you. Look up at night, and see the stars, and ken we see them, too." He

It occurred to me—belatedly, as so many things did these days—that John's intimate memories belonged to him, as well. "I didn't mean to pry," I said apologetically. He smiled faintly, but with real humor. "I am flattered, madam, that you should entertain an interest in me. I know many more Ã¢â'¬Â¦ conventional marriages in which the partners remain by preference in complete ignorance of each other's thoughts and histories.

Ifs" hover in the air above your head all the time when you're doing surgery, like a cloud of gnats. For the most part, though, they keep a respectful distance, only buzzing dimly in the background. Done.

Warmth crept over him, and sleep tiptoed in its wake, drawing a blanket of drowsiness up round his ears, unlocking the tidy cupboards of his mind and letting all the thoughts and impressions of the day spill out in brightly colored heaps.

It is a form of arrogance to assume that other people are even thinking about you.

When I have anxiety attacks, I always think I'm having a heart attack.

Talking about auditions, you never know what anyone else is thinking.