Thought (n.) almost always travels with its contradictory twin: each train of thought is linked to its opposite by antithetical association.
Thought (n.) means nothing and has no weight: it is the blank part of the text, the index of a future epoch of differance.
Thought (n.) has value only when it comes while you are walking; a sedentary life is the real sin against the Holy Spirit.
Thought (n.) is language, and it lives in an element closer to sound than to light.
Thought (n.) is always already the inability to think any more: the unpower essential to thinking.
Thought (n.) is no more than a circuitous path, a delay before the thing.
Thought (n.) cannot be grasped except as formed in language, yet we still ask what in it owes nothing to language.
Thought (n.) is not matter that language gives form to, since no container of thought could be imagined empty of its contents.