There was so much to say that we said nothing.
Everybody is a writer. Everybody has a hand. Everybody has a story. Everybody writes stories of life from dawn to dusk. Everybody has a pen. Everybody has inks. These are the inks for writing the stor...
She was waiting, but she didn't know for what. She was aware only of her solitude, and of the penetrating cold, and of a greater weight in the region of her heart.
You are the creation of your own consciousness.
We must change our way of thinking, correct our plans and envision new ways of attaining our goals
Rating a book don't judge the book.It all depends upon the observation of the reader and how much he/she is free to be what he/she is in reality.Perceptions and observations will change according to w...
All thought is a feat of association.
We, all who live, haveA life that is livedAnd another life that is thought,And the only life we haveIt's the one that is dividedIn right or wrong.
Men use thought only as authority for their injustice, and employ speech only to conceal their thoughts.
A man can stand a lot as long as he can stand himself. He can live without hope, without friends, without books, even without music, as long as he can listen to his own thoughts.
An educated man is thoroughly inoculated against humbug, thinks for himself and tries to give his thoughts, in speech or on paper, some style.
The actions of men are the best interpreters of their thoughts.
The person who tries to live alone will not succeed as a human being. His heart withers if it does not answer another heart. His mind shrinks away if he hears only the echoes of his own thoughts and f...
When a person pauses in mid-sentence to choose a word, that's the best time to jump in and change the subject! It's like an interception in football! You grab the others guy's idea and run the opposit...
What we do comes out of who we believe we are.
The things other people have put into my head, at any rate, do not fit together nicely, are often useless and ugly, are out of proportion with one another, are out of proportion with life as it really...
Our relationship could now thrive only in my head, and to discuss it with a mother intent—admittedly in my own best interest—on challenging it with reality might do it irreparable harm.
I laugh, because he knew what I was thinking, and very few people ever know what I'm thinking.
He sat down and collected his thoughts. They were quite easy to collect, because there weren't very many of them, and they all concerned the same subject--what a burden his life was.
He looked down at me without recognition, and I realized with a little stab of anxiety that he must have forgotten all about me, perhaps for some considerable time, and that he himself was so lost in...