“And he says,” she murmured, “the world is nothing but . . . ” She paused. What did he say? Nothing but thought, was it? she asked herself as if she had already forgotten. Well, since it was impossible to read and impossible to sleep, she would let herself be thought. It was easier to act things than to think them. Legs, body, hands, the whole of her must be laid out passively to take part in this universal process of thinking which the man said was the world living. She stretched herself out. Where did thought begin?  The Years, 1907, Virginia Woolf

I keep thinking what we would be if we couldn’t think.  The world wouldn’t exist as it is perceived today and our lives wouldn’t be worth living…at least for me…More and more often I see living-dead-people with nothing in their worlds…just air…

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