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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #mind
I have known them all of my life. I have always felt as existence even as a child. Now 48, I feel more alien than ever. To me, this world is strange. I could never call it home and still can't. I see other accomplishing things in life, I am stuck between good ideas. I go from loving to agitation in matter of minutes. I can't even fight because my weapons are nonexistent. My words cut deep and kill. Then get tired and want to be alone. Who am I. Not even I know. ↗
People are sheep. TV is the shepherd. ↗
#entertainment #herd-mentality #humor #hype #mainstream-media
There is no new knowledge, it already exists in the universe. ↗
#cosmic-ordering #law-of-attraction #mind-body-spirit #mind-power #money
Stories you read when you're the right age never quite leave you. You may forget who wrote them or what the story was called. Sometimes you'll forget precisely what happened, but if a story touches you it will stay with you, haunting the places in your mind that you rarely ever visit. ↗
Exhaust your worries and they will soon leave you. ↗
#cosmic-ordering #law-of-attraction #mind-body-spirit #mind-power #money
We must reject the artificial and embrace what is real and true: truth in food, community, relationships and self. ↗
#awareness #eye-opening #mind-opening #reality-of-life #realization
Finally, everybody agrees that no one pursuit can be successfully followed by a man who is preoccupied with many things—eloquence cannot, nor the liberal studies—since the mind, when distracted, takes in nothing very deeply, but rejects everything that is, as it were, crammed into it. There is nothing the busy man is less busied with than living: there is nothing that is harder to learn. ↗
#busyness #life #living #mind #preoccupation
The museums in children’s minds, I think, automatically empty themselves in times of utmost horror—to protect the children from eternal grief. For my own part, though: It would have been catastrophe if I had forgotten my sister at once. I had never told her so, but she was the person I had always written for. She was the secret of whatever artistic unity I had ever achieved. She was the secret of my technique. Any creation which has any wholeness and harmoniousness, I suspect, was made by an artist or inventor with an audience of one in mind. Yes, and she was nice enough, or Nature was nice enough, to allow me to feel her presence for a number of years after she died—to let me go on writing for her. But then she began to fade away, perhaps because she had more important business elsewhere. ↗
