"instinct"タグの名言

Ideas pull the trigger, but instinct loads the gun.

Every instinct that is found in any man is in all men. The strength of the emotion may not be so overpowering, the barriers against possession not so insurmountable, the urge to accomplish the desire less keen. With some, inhibitions and urges may be neutralized by other tendencies. But with every being the primal emotions are there. All men have an emotion to kill; when they strongly dislike some one they involuntarily wish he was dead. I have never killed any one, but I have read some obituary notices with great satisfaction.

Instinct is a makeshift, an admission of helplessness before the problem of reality.

Among peoples who possess a highly developed pugnacious instinct we find the greatest progress in the arts, sciences, social and political organization, commerce and industry. The instinct takes the milder form of rivalry which is the motive force of the great portion of the serious labors of mankind.

Oh darling, don't be bitter. It's the first instinct of the weak.

Civilization is a myth. That is the truth this world has taught us. We have not risen above our baser instincts... That is what always has and always will drive us.

I said, but I have to go, there are so many places calling my name.

If you are able to follow your passion by reaching out to as many human beings as possible – and inspire them through your experience, wisdom instinct, and words. “You are truly blessed

What do you see when you look at me?” My eyes narrowed and I pressed my lips together, weighing my thoughts. All of his bimbo admirers aside, what did I see? What did my gut tell me about this man? What did it say that allowed me to wind up here with him, under such impulsive circumstances? “You’re a sad man,” I swallowed. “You’re arrogant and set in your ways, but that creates a fortress for you. It’s your safe haven. Behind the moat is someone who has lost something he loved, only I’m not sure what, or who. You’re afraid of something and your loyalty is hidden away in a cell, wounded by betrayal.” I rested my head on the pillow. “That’s what I see.” “On second thought,” he exhaled, letting his head drop next to mine. “You’re psychic.

As they prepared themselves to go ashore no one doubted in theory that at least a certain percentage of them would remain on the island dead, once they set foot on it. But no one expected to be one of these. Still it was an awesome thought and as the first contingents came struggling up on deck in full gear to form up, all eyes instinctively sought out immediately this island where they were to be put, and left, and which might possibly turn out to be a friend's grave.

O anlarda ayaklarımızın altından yer kayar ve ellerimiz boş bir çabayla göğe doğru kalkarken, sahip olduğumuz halde pek farkına varmadığımız şeylere yapışırız içgüdüyle. Hiç haberimiz olmadan içimizde yaşayan atalarımızın tüm tecrübelerinin, biriktirdikleri tüm alışkanlıkların gözlerimizin önüne serildiğini görürüz. Belki de orada, bir çıkış, bir çıkış başlangıcı, karanlıkların içinde, çok uzaklarda gerçekliğine inanılmayacak kadar zayıf ve belirsiz ışıklı bir nokta vardı. Ama böylesi anlarda selamete ulaşmak için, insan bir iğne deliğinden bile geçebilir.

The material world is simply an expression of the mind; that's what so many fail to see. We're so dependent on what is before us that we discount our intuition. Yet if one dismisses instinct, how can one understand or believe in a world that exists beyond one's sight?

Obviously, a rigid, blinkered, absolutist world view is the easiest to keep hold of, whereas the fluid, uncertain, metamorphic picture I've always carried about is rather more vulnerable. Yet I must cling with all my might to … my own soul; must hold on to its mischievous, iconoclastic, out-of-step clown-instincts, no matter how great the storm. And if that plunges me into contradiction and paradox, so be it; I've lived in that messy ocean all my life. I've fished in it for my art. This turbulent sea was the sea outside my bedroom window in Bombay. It is the sea by which I was born, and which I carry within me wherever I go.

Fighting and writing’s deepest layers of beauty lie not only in the physical and mental realms of what we know, but also as an incognizable instinct, a realm we will never fully know but will forever feel.

I have been and still am a seeker, but I have ceased to question stars and books; I have begun to listen to the teaching my blood whispers to me.

It isn’t always right to listen to advice. One must follow one’s instinct. But then it isn’t always right to ignore an advice either. For an advice contains the grain of a perspective other than one’s own.

Humanity is a cage, and our puritanical sensibilities comprise the bars. We are confined by our own reason and intellect, and yet most of us don't even know it.

There is a part of us that knows the timing of any relationship. It knows things that we cannot work out. It knows when to say yes. It knows when to say no. It knows when to wait. It knows when something has finished. It knows when something has started. It knows when we have a responsibility to another person. It knows when the ties are untied. It will not betray us or another.

All men are born firstly with the instinct to protect themselves. But few grow to really love themselves, and even fewer learn to love their neighbor as themselves.

At the end of the day, it’s your life. If you turn out good, the world celebrates you and with you (not minding how you achieved it). If bad, they abandon you (even if they gave you the advice that led you to doom). Just be you and follow your heart.