A Quote by George Stillman Hillard

A vacant mind invites dangerous inmates, as a deserted mansion tempts wandering outcasts to enter and take up their abode in its desolate apartments. — © George Stillman Hillard
A vacant mind invites dangerous inmates, as a deserted mansion tempts wandering outcasts to enter and take up their abode in its desolate apartments.
As a splendid palace deserted by its inmates looks like a ruin, so does a man without character, all his material belongings notwithstanding.
Not all that tempts your wandering eyes And heedless hearts, is lawful prize; Nor all that glisters gold.
It is on account of the ego that one is not able to see God. In front of the door of God's mansion lies the stump of ego. One cannot enter the mansion without jumping over the stump.
I compare human life to a large mansion of many apartments, two of which I can only describe, the doors of the rest being as yet shut upon me.
I'll never stop wandering. And when the time comes to die, I'll find the wildest, loneliest, most desolate spot there is.
I'm still blown away by how desolate Iceland can be, how deserted it is. It's very often like living on the moon.
If I were really really ridiculously wealthy, I wouldn’t buy a mansion, just tiny apartments in every city I love.
Most people have died before they expire; died to all earthly longings, so that the last breath is only, as it were, the locking of the door of the already deserted mansion.
When your persona begins to take over your music and becomes more important, you enter a dangerous place. Once you have people around you who don't question you, you're in a dangerous place.
Wisdom and love do not take up their abode in the same breast.
Heterosexuality is dangerous. It tempts you to aim at a perfect duality of desire.
When we meditate, what we actually do is enter into a vacant, calm, still, silent mind. We go deep within and approach our true existence, which is our soul. When we live in the soul, we feel that we are actually meditating spontaneously
Knackered inmates are easier to control than pumped-up ones. And dead inmates are even easier to control, if you follow me.
Opening a book in the middle of a chapter always made me feel like I was interrupting a group of strangers, wandering unannounced into their villages and apartments and taxis and slums.
Loaded with note cards for research papers that I was hopelessly behind on, I'd enter the Public Library only to end up wandering around lost, wasting the day.
The inner spaces that a good story lets us enter are the old apartments of religion.
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