“Man need not be degraded to a machine by being denied to be a ghost in a machine.”

The dogma of the Ghost in the Machine, maintains that there exist both bodies and minds; that there occur physical processes and mental processes; that there are mechanical causes of corporeal movements and mental causes of corporeal movements.

Man need not be degraded to a machine by being denied to be a ghost in a machine. He might, after all, be a sort of animal, namely, a higher mammal. There has yet to be ventured the hazardous leap to the hypothesis that perhaps he is a man.

To explode a myth is accordingly not to deny the facts but to re-allocate them.

Dreamers of dreams may be pathfinders; but they may be mere vagrants. Of those who depart from the pavements, only a few are explorers: the rest are mere jaywalkers

In searching for the self, one cannot simultaneously be the hunter and the hunted.

To see is one thing; to picture or visualise is another. A person can see things, only when his eyes are open, and when his surroundings are illuminated; but he can have pictures in his mind’s eye, when his eyes are shut and when the world is dark.

Chronicles are not explanatory of what they record.

My today’s self perpetually slips out of any hold of it that I may try to take.

Absolute solitude is on this showing the ineluctable destiny of the soul. Only our bodies can meet.

A myth is, of course, not a fairy story. It is the presentation of facts belonging to one category in the idioms appropriate to another. To explode a myth is accordingly not to deny the facts but to re-allocate them.

So too Plato was, in my view, a very unreliable Platonist. He was too much of a philosopher to think that anything he had said was the last word.

Myths often do a lot of theoretical good, while they are still new.

The dogma of the Ghost in the machine.

Philosophy is the replacement of category-habits by category-disciplines.

O Death, rock me asleep, bring me to quiet rest, let pass my weary guiltless ghost out of my careful breast.

Perhaps we always want the person we love, to have the existence of a ghost.

In my experience, ghosts are made up only of the living, people you know are out there but are forever out of range

Romance like a ghost escapes touching; it is always where you are not, not where you are. The interview or conversation was prose at the time, but it is poetry in the memory.

Step out the front door like a ghost into the fog where noone notices the contrast of white on white.

All night I dreamt of bonfires and burn piles and ghosts of men, and spirits behind those birds of flame. I cannot tell anymore when a door opens or closes,

I can only hear the frame saying, Walk through.

Kings need the world, but the world does not need the kings! Let them disappear like the horrible ghosts of the nightmares!