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"If only your pure and clean mind could touch me, dear Haydn, nobody has a greater reverence for you than I have."
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"Humans have better wings than birds: Human mind is a perfect wing and with this wing we can fly to some farthermost places no bird can ever dream! Yes, mind is a wing; and when it comes to flying man is the most sophisticated bird on earth!"
"You do not have a mind belongs to yourself! Your thoughts are the thoughts of your culture! When you speak, it is not you but your culture, your religion, your traditions, your political or spiritual leaders speak! If not you but your culture, your religion etc. are speaking on behalf of you, then what are you, who are you? A stupid puppet? Get a mind which belongs to yourself! Only then you will be able to speak with your own thoughts on behalf of your own self!"
"A moderate silence ensued. A neutral-to-slightly-positive silence. True, silence is still silence, except when you think about it too much."
"How can you read and talk at the same time? I asked."Well, I usually can't, but neither the book nor the conversation is particularly intellectually challenging."
"You're wrong. The mind is not like raindrops. It does not fall from the skies, it does not lose itself among other things. If you believe in me at all, then believe this: I promise you I will find it. Everything depends on this." "I believe you," she whispers after a moment. "Please find my mind."
"I want pills called September 10. You take one and your mind feels like the 11th never happened."
Explore more quotes by Franz Schubert
"Why should the composer be more guilty than the poet who warms to fantasy by a strange flame, making an idea that inspires him the subject of his own very different treatment?"
"There are eight girls in the house in which I am living, and practically all of them are good looking. You can realize that I am kept busy."
"There are two contrary impulses which govern this man's brain-the one sane, and the other eccentric. They alternate at regular intervals."
"One bites into the brass mouthpiece of his wooden cudgel, and the other blows his cheeks out on a French horn. Do you call that Art?"
"No one feels another's grief, no one understands another's joy. People imagine they can reach one another. In reality they only pass each other by."
"The manager is to be blamed who distributes parts to his players which they are unable to act."
"Every night when I go to bed, I hope that I may never wake again, and every morning renews my grief."
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