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The wise man doesn't give the right answers, he poses the right questions.
The wise man doesn't give the right answers, he poses the right questions.
When I dream, I am ageless.
When I dream, I am ageless.
Who shoots at the mid-day sun, though he be so sure he shall never hit the mark, yet as sure read more
Who shoots at the mid-day sun, though he be so sure he shall never hit the mark, yet as sure as he is, he shall shoot higher than he who aims at a bush.
Whence come these hatreds...? They are an expression of a desperate effort to suppress an awareness of our inadequacy, worthlessness, read more
Whence come these hatreds...? They are an expression of a desperate effort to suppress an awareness of our inadequacy, worthlessness, guilt and other shortcomings of the self. Self-contempt is here transmuted into hatred of others- and there is a most determined and persistent effort to mask this switch.
Because we do not understand the brain very well we are constantly tempted to use the latest technology as a read more
Because we do not understand the brain very well we are constantly tempted to use the latest technology as a model for trying to understand it. In my childhood we were always assured that the brain was a telephone switchboard. ('What else could it be?') I was amused to see that Sherrington, the great British neuroscientist, thought that the brain worked like a telegraph system. Freud often compared the brain to hydraulic and electro-magnetic systems. Leibniz compared it to a mill, and I am told some of the ancient Greeks thought the brain functions like a catapult. At present, obviously, the metaphor is the digital computer.
Reading furnishes the mind only with materials for knowledge; it is thinking that makes what we read ours.
Reading furnishes the mind only with materials for knowledge; it is thinking that makes what we read ours.
I don't use drugs, my dreams are frightening enough.
I don't use drugs, my dreams are frightening enough.
Nature attains perfection, but man never does. There is a perfect ant, a perfect bee, but man is perpetually unfinished. read more
Nature attains perfection, but man never does. There is a perfect ant, a perfect bee, but man is perpetually unfinished. He is both an unfinished animal and an unfinished man. It is this incurable unfinishedness which sets man apart from other living things. For, in the attempt to finish himself, man becomes a creator. Moreover, the incurable unfinishedness keeps man perpetually immature, perpetually capable of learning and growing.
Every extreme attitude is a flight from the self.
Every extreme attitude is a flight from the self.