Not all heads have a brain.

There is no female mind. The brain is not an organ of sex. As well speak of a female liver.

The brain is an unreliable organ, it is monstrously great, monstrously developed. Swollen, like a goiter.

The brain may be regarded as a kind of parasite of the organism, a pensioner, as it were, who dwells with the body.

Madness need not be all breakdown. It may also be breakthrough.

The universe is an object of thought at least as much as it is a means of satisfying needs.

To be too conscious is an illness—a real thoroughgoing illness.

The mind is not, I know, a highway but a temple, and its doors should not be carelessly left open.

Though this be madness, yet there is method in’t.

What the brain does by itself is infinitely more fascinating and complex than any response it can make to chemical stimulation.

The human mind is an evolutionary product, just like the human body.

The real question is not whether machines think but whether men do.

my mind is
a big hunk of irrevocable nothing