In psychoanalysis nothing is true except the exaggerations.

Any man could, if he were so inclined, be the sculptor of his own brain.

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

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

“I think, therefore I am” is the statement of an intellectual who underrates toothaches.

As is the face, so is the mind.

Sanity is madness put to good uses; waking life is a dream controlled.

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

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

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

Not all heads have a brain.

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

What is outside my mind means nothing to it.