How small a thought it takes to fill a life.

A philosopher always finds more grass to feed upon in the valleys of stupidity than on the arid heights of intelligence.

Suppose we think while we talk or write--I mean, as we normally do--we shall not in general say that we think quicker than we talk, but the thought seems not to be separate from the expression.

A logical picture of facts is a thought.

Is my understanding only blindness to my own lack of understanding? It often seems so to me.

If, for example, you were to think more deeply about death, then it would be truly strange if, in so doing, you did not encounter new images.

Never stay up on the barren heights of cleverness, but come down into the green valleys of silliness.