“I don’t wish to be without my brains, tho’ they doubtless interfere with a blind faith which would be very comfortable.”

I shall, in due time, be a Poet.

That brain of mine is something more than merely mortal; as time will show.

The more I study, the more insatiable do I feel my genius for it to be.

Forget this world and all its troubles and if possible its multitudinous Charlatans– everything in short but the Enchantress of Numbers.

I am much pleased to find how very well I stand work & how my powers of attention & continued effort increase.

I believe myself to possess a most singular combination of qualities exactly fitted to make me pre-eminently a discoverer of the hidden realities of nature.

As soon as I have got flying to perfection, I have got a scheme about a steam engine.

What is imagination? It is a God-like, a noble faculty. It renders earth tolerable, it teaches us to live, in the tone of the eternal.

I am in a charming state of confusion.

We may say most aptly that the Analytical Engine weaves algebraical patterns just as the Jacquard loom weaves flowers and leaves.

If you can’t give me poetry, can’t you give me poetical science?

I was rather foolish in saying that I did not like arithmetic and to learn figures when I did – I was not thinking quite what I was about. The sums can be done better, if I tried, than they are.

The intellectual, the moral, the religious seem to me all naturally bound up and interlinked together in one great and harmonious whole.

Understand well as I may, my comprehension can only be an infinitesimal fraction of all I want to understand.

The Analytical Engine has no pretensions whatever to originate anything. It can do whatever we know how to order it to perform.

One essential object is to choose that arrangement which shall tend to reduce to a minimum the time necessary for completing the calculation.

She stood at the tip of obstacles, but never blind to the light of faith.

Blind are those who see only through eyes.

Why do I see in a world gone blind? I always longed to find the answers, took chances. Asked for the veil to thin. Fault? Mine. Left questioning; my eyes, blessings or curses?

The will determines itself; it should not be described as blind, any more than vision should be described as deaf.

Will you seize the day or waste it away? The finitude of time always on the mind. Will you see your future glory, or will you still remain blind?

Stop giving your infant heart/ wrapped in blind vows/ white lies/ and a haunted past/ stop asking for love/ if you don’t know how to give any/ stop hurting others/ stop it/ stop it/ just fucking stop it.

I was blinded by the desire to be wanted that I forgot how to love myself.

Who will you bring into battle? Who will blindly follow your lead? No questions asked, no hesitation. Have your back regardless, all doubts paid no heed.