Such is the influence which the condition of our own thoughts, exercises, even over the appearance of external objects. Men who look on nature, and their fellow-men, and cry that all is dark and gloomy, are in the right; but the sombre colours are reflections from their own jaundiced eyes and hearts. The real hues are delicate, and need a clearer vision.
A man's subconscious self is not the ideal companion. It lurks for the greater part of his life in some dark den of its own, hidden away, and emerges only to taunt and deride and increase the misery of a miserable hour.
So much in writing depends on the superficiality of one's days. One may be preoccupied with shopping and income tax returns and chance conversations, but the stream of the unconscious continues to flow undisturbed, solving problems, planning ahead: one sits down sterile and dispirited at the desk, and suddenly the words come as though from the air: the situations that seemed blocked in a hopeless impasse move forward: the work has been done while one slept or shopped or talked with friends.
Te cansaras primero que yo. Llegare a donde quieres llegar antes que tu estes alli -dijo el que iba detras de el-. Me se de memoria tus intenciones, quien eres y de donde eres y adonde vas. Llegare antes que tu llegues.
A million zeros joined together do not, unfortunately, add up to one. Ultimately everything depends on the quality of the individual, but our fatally shortsighted age thinks only in terms of large numbers and mass organizations, though one would think that the world had seen more than enough of what a well-disciplined mob can do in the hands of a single madman. Unfortunately, this realization does not seem to have penetrated very far - and our blindness is extremely dangerous.
The mind is in a sad state when Sleep, the all-involving, cannot confine her spectres within the dim region of her sway, but suffers them to break forth, affrighting this actual life with secrets that perchance belong to a deeper one.
If only a world-wide consciousness could arise that all division and fission are due to the splitting of opposites in the psyche, then we should know where to begin.
To Mr. Jones, she said, imagine you're looking up at a blue sky, and imagine a tiny airplane skywriting the letter Z. Then let the wind erase the letter. Then imagine the plane writing the letter Y. Let the wind erase it. Then the letter X. Erase it. Then the letter W. Let the wind erase it.
Of course we have an 'unconscious mind' and this is partly what my book is about. But there is no general chart of that lost continent. Certainly not a 'scientific' one.
Arkhisan ta pegadakia. E Gkloria serbire to epidorpio. O Ntintie akoumpese to tsigaro tou sten akre tou piatou me ta amugdalota, skorpizontas stakhtes kai trimmata apo amugdalota kai epimenontas oti o Phroint eikhe dikio otan diateinotan oti e glossa einai o monadikos dromos pros to asuneideto. O Stanlei anteteine oti e glossa dotheke ston anthropo gia na krubei tis skepseis tou kai oti to mono pou mporouses na kaneis me tis lexeis etan na tis guriseis sto plai opos ta epipla ste diarkeia enos bombardismou.