Quotes About Musing

You can think of me thinking of you, because that's what I'll be doing whenever you think of me.

I wasn't having second thoughts, but I was having thoughts.

I think that I'm serious, but I don't think that I'm inordinately bleak.

The great essayist Montaigne understood that "in an essay, the track of a person's thoughts struggling to achieve some understanding of a problem is the plot, is the adventure." Rather than simply telling a story from her life, the memoirist both tells the story and muses upon it, trying to unravel what it means in the light of her current knowledge.

Dwelling. Miles repeated the word to himself. It was a strange word.

No, said Arthur, no, he added thoughtfully. No, he added again, even more thoughtfully. What? he said at last.

A steel door closed and the captain was on his own again. He hummed quietly and mused to himself, lightly fingering his notebook of verses. "Hmmm," he said, "counterpoint the surrealism of the underlying metaphor …" He considered this for a moment, and then closed the book with a grim smile. "Death's too good for them," he said.

But afterwards you went on remembering.

Recently, a friend sent me the online musings of a televangelist who advised his thousands of followers that the Federal Reserve achieved satanic ends by manipulating the world's money supply. Paranoia has replaced piety.

While he mused on the effect of the flowing sands, he was seized from time to time by hallucinations in which he himself began to move with the flow.

On Man, on Nature, and on Human Life, Musing is solitude

On Man, on Nature, and on Human Life, Musing in solitude, I oft perceive Fair trains of images before me rise, Accompanied by feelings of delight Pure, or with no unpleasing sadness mixed.

Every thought is an afterthought.

Pensive they sit, and roll their languid eyes.

The kind of humor I like is the thing that makes me laugh for 5 seconds and think for 10 minutes.

Faria Kazi heard them and thought of

Good God, what did he not remember?

Whenever I think of the past, it brings back so many memories.

Thinking over this thought, this whole thinking makes no sense.

Something feels funny. I must be thinking too hard.

There is a place in the world, I believe, for thought.

Gaily I lived as ease and nature taught, And spent my little life without a thought, And am amazed that Death, that tyrant grim, Should think of me, who never thought of him.

I'm in a constant process of thinking about things.

I tipped my head.