When artists create pictures and thinkers search for laws and formulate thoughts, it is in order to salvage something from the great dance of death, to make something that lasts longer than we do.
We are given up to those gods, those monsters, those giants: our thoughts.
To him whose elastic and vigorous thought keeps pace with the sun, the day is a perpetual morning.
Through the word a man conveys his thoughts to another, while through art people convey their feelings to each other.[Cловом один человек передает другому свои мысли, искусством же люди передают друг другу свои чувства.]
Thoughts without words. Can that be?
Thoughts without content are empty, intuitions without concepts are blind.[Gedanken ohne Inhalt sind leer, Anschauungen ohne Begriffe sind blind.]
Thoughts are the shadows of our sentiments — always, however, obscurer, emptier, and simpler.
Thought was a valuable thing, that got results.
Thought is yours only. Nobody can alter or influence the use you mean to make of it.
Thought is the labor of the intellect, reverie is its pleasure.
Thought is a key to all treasures.
There are a thousand thoughts lying within a man that he does not know till he takes up the pen to write.
