When I got the phrase media whore thrown in my face last year, I thought, Oh my God, if you only knew.

I thought it would be my one and only exhibition, so I decided to call it My Major Retrospective.

I have thought a sufficient measure of civilization is the influence of good women.

Every fact is related on one side to sensation, and, on the other, to morals. The game of thought is, on the appearance of one of these two sides, to find the other: given the upper, to find the under side.

The revelation of thought takes men out of servitude into freedom.

The ancestor of every action is a thought.

We get done with the game, and it's an absolute downpour 30 minutes later. That's when I thought God was telling me that's enough-time for you to go do something else.

In sum, thought and reflection have been rendered thoroughly pointless by the circumstances in which modern men and women live and act.

As much as I transferred my mother to Elizabeth Shore of The Black Dahlia, as much as her dad mutated into an obsession with crime in general, well, I have thought about other things throughout the years.

The mathematician has reached the highest rung on the ladder of human thought.

I thought foolishly that Freudian psychoanalysis was deeper and more intensive than other, more directive forms of therapy, so I was trained in it and practiced it.

It's just that back then we didn't know that was considered being a coproducer. I would sit on the side and say what I wanted musically, but at the time we thought if you aren't the one playing it, you don't get the credit. Now you'll start seeing my name listed as producer.

I pray to God that I shall not live one hour after I have thought of using deception.

I had seen birth and death but had thought they were different.

He was like a cock who thought the sun had risen to hear him crow.