There’s no such thing as dead languages, only dormant minds.
No matter how hard we try to ignore it, the mind always knows truth and wants clarity.
I enjoy talking to you. Your mind appeals to me. It resembles my own mind except that you happen to be insane.
Your subconscious mind recognizes and acts upon ONLY thoughts which have been well-mixed with emotion or feeling.
Where the Mind is biggest, the Heart, the Senses, Magnanimity, Charity, Tolerance, Kindliness, and the rest of them scarcely have room to breathe.
When your stomach is empty and your mind is full, it’s always hard to sleep.
The trouble with having an open mind, of course, is that people will insist on coming along and trying to put things in it.
The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls, to be perused by any invader. The mind is a complex and many-layered thing,
The goal to be reached is the mind’s insight into what knowing is. Impatience asks for the impossible, wants to reach the goal without the means of getting there. The length of the journey has to be borne with, for every moment is necessary.
The force of mind is only as great as its expression; its depth only as deep as its power to expand and lose itself.
She is a friend of my mind. She gather me, man. The pieces I am, she gather them and give them back to me in all the right order.
Nothing was your own except the few cubic centimeters inside your skull.
