Thought (n.) is only this little agitation of the brain — what privilege makes it the model of the whole universe?
Thought (n.) as the cause of all things is a peasant's sophism — making one's domestic economy the rule for governing kingdoms, only worse.
Thought (n.) is fluctuating, fleeting, successive and compounded; remove these and you annihilate its essence — so to call God's mind "thought" is an abuse of terms.
Thought (n.) is the most delicate of things in its causes: no two people think alike, nor the same person at two times — age, weather, food, company or books will alter its machinery.
Thought (n.) has a very irregular motion: it may leap from the heavens to the earth, from one end of creation to the other, without method or order.
Thought (n.) may be, and actually is, caused by matter and motion: no connexion appears between them, but none appears between a lever's weights and their motion either — and everyone feels his body's dispositions change his thoughts.
Thought (n.) chases thought: one draws after it a third, by which it is expelled in its turn.
Thought (n.) at its most lively is still inferior to the dullest sensation.
Thought (n.) seems unbounded — the body creeps along one planet while thought leaps beyond the universe into chaos — yet all its creative power amounts to compounding, transposing, augmenting or diminishing what the senses supplied.
Thought (n.) in general as the essence of mind, as Descartes held, is unintelligible — everything that exists is particular.
Thought (n.) along with design and intelligence is only one of the universe's hundred springs, like heat or attraction — and from the growth of a hair we learn nothing about the generation of a man.