It’s not the brains that matter most, but that which guides them – the character, the heart, generous qualities, progressive ideas.[Не ум главное, а то, что направляет его, – натура, сердце, благородные свойства, развитие.]
With precision of the fingers goes precision of the brain.
Nothing was your own except the few cubic centimeters inside your skull.
Your own brains ought to have the decency to be on your side!
Your brain is telling you that you can’t, but you don’t always have to listen to it.
You have a brain and mind of your own. USE IT, and reach your own decisions.
What does the brain matter compared with the heart?
Toil is man’s allotment; toil of brain, or toil of hands, or a grief that’s more than either, the grief and sin of idleness.
There is no such thing as memory: the brain recalls just what the muscles grope for: no more, no less: and its resultant sum is usually incorrect and false and worthy only of the name of dream.
There are times when those eyes inside your brain stare back at you.
There are three different kinds of brains, the one understands things unassisted, the other understands things when shown by others, the third understands neither alone nor with the explanations of others. The first kind is most excellent, the second also excellent, but the third useless.[E perchè sono di tre generazioni cervelli; l’uno intende per sè, l’altro intende quanto da altri gli è mostro, il terzo non intende nè sè stesso nè per dimostrazione d’altri. Quel primo è eccellentissimo, il secondo eccellente, il terzo inutile.]
The human brain is finite – no more than a sponge of tissue inside a cage of bone – but the mind within the brain is infinite. Its storage capacity is colossal, its imaginative reach beyond our ability to comprehend. I think when a man or woman dies, a whole world falls to ruin – the world that person knew and believed in. Think of that, kiddo – billions of people on earth, and each one of those billions with a world inside. The earth their minds have conceived.
