I love words; they are the quoits, the bows, the staves that furnish the gymnasium of the mind.
We don't know what we think until we see what we say.
The mind has three operations: the formation of ideas, judgements and reasoning.
I write to find out what I'm talking about.
Your brain does not manufacture thoughts. Your thoughts shape neural networks.
I write to discover what I think.
Normally, people believe that, if they hear just words, that these words must lead to some thought.
Was it really so far-fetched to think that words had a way of shaping a person's whole life?
Your words are containers for power, and by the words you speak you frame your world!
The establishment of a law, moreover, does not take place when the first thought of it takes form, or even when its significance is recognised, but only when it has been confirmed by the results of the experiment.
You can have what you want- if you know how to form the mold for it in your own thoughts. There is no dream that may not come true, if you but learn to use the Creative Force working through you. The methods that work for one will work for all. The key to power lies in using what you have...freely, fully and thus opening wide your channels for more creative force to flow through you.
A poem begins with a lump in the throat; a homesickness or a love sickness. It is a reaching-out toward expression; an effort to find fulfillment. A complete poem is one where an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.
I write because I don't know what I think until I read what I say.
Man is really not freeing many aspects. He is dependent on his social circumstances, but he is free in his thinking, and here is the point of origin of sculpture. For me the formation of the thought is already sculpture. The thought is sculpture.
The miracle of turning inklings into thoughts and thoughts into words and words into metal and print and ink never palls for me.
How can I tell you what I think until I've heard what I'm going to say?
I don't know what I think about certain subjects, even today, until I sit down and try to write about them.
Riposte of "that old lady in the anecdote who was accused by her nieces of being illogical," Logic! Good gracious! What rubbish! How can I tell what I think till I see what I say?
It is for this, partly, that I write. How can I know what I think unless I see what I write.
A lot of writing is thinking.
Language is the mother, not the handmaiden, of thought; words will tell you things you never thought or felt before.
Most writing doesn’t take place on the page; it takes place in your head.
First, I do not sit down at my desk to put into verse something that is already clear in my mind. If it were clear in my mind, I should have no incentive or need to write about it.
My thought has been shaped by books; my desires by pictures.
Our writing equipment takes part in forming our thoughts.
