A Quote by Norman Douglas

How hard it is, sometimes, to trust the evidence of one's senses! How reluctantly the mind consents to reality. — © Norman Douglas
How hard it is, sometimes, to trust the evidence of one's senses! How reluctantly the mind consents to reality.
It is not possible to provide evidence of life after death to the five senses anymore than it is possible to provide the five senses with evidence of non-physical reality. It cannot be done. The five senses; sight,hearing, taste and smell together form a single sensory system whose object of detection is physical reality. This cannot detect non-physical reality. Humankind is beginning to be able to access data the 5 senses cannot provide.
Unfortunately, too many executives believe the myths about trust. Myths like how trust is soft and is merely a social virtue. The reality is that trust is hard-edged and is an economic driver.
Teaching literature is teaching how to read. How to notice things in a text that a speed-reading culture is trained to disregard, overcome, edit out, or explain away; how to read what the language is doing, not guess what the author was thinking; how to take evidence from a page, not seek a reality to substitute for it.
There are three basic problems: how a mind can know the world of nature, how it is possible for one mind to know another, and how it is possible to know the contents of our own minds without resort to observation or evidence. It is a mistake, I shall urge, to suppose that these questions can be collapsed into two, or taken into isolation.
Do I trust myself? Sometimes I don't even know, but I can only just kind of throw my hat in the ring and hope for the best. Depending on how much I trust the other people is how much freedom I can allow myself to have on that particular set.
Do you know how wizards like to be buried?" "Yes!" "Well, how?" Granny Weatherwax paused at the bottom of the stairs. "Reluctantly.
This is an important distinction, because most of the modern philosophies that deny that we can know reality, and ultimately truth, make the mistake of constructing epistemological systems to explain how we know reality without first acknowledging the fact that we do know reality. After they begin within the mind and find they can't construct a bridge to reality, they then declare that we can't know reality. It is like drawing a faulty road map before looking at the roads, then declaring that we can't know how to get from Chicago to New York!
All we can go on is what we think, how we see the world. If you can't trust your own mind what can you trust?
I love thinking about mechanics and having your mind agree with the mechanics. Sometimes you can shoot it correctly, but your mind doesn't think that it's right. So it's like, how do you get your mind to trust that that's the right way to shoot it.
In college, in the early 1950s, I began to learn a little about how science works, the secrets of its great success, how rigorous the standards of evidence must be if we are really to know something is true, how many false starts and dead ends have plagued human thinking, how our biases can colour our interpretation of evidence, and how often belief systems widely held and supported by the political, religious and academic hierarchies turn out to be not just slightly in error, but grotesquely wrong.
Our senses through ignorance of Reality, falsely tell us that what appears to be, is. FEAR = False Evidence Appearing Real
My faith is certainly not as stable or constant as I’d like it to be. I’m a highly emotional person and sometimes allow my emotions to affect how I feel about God or how I trust him.
Advice is like a doctor's pills; how easily he gives them! how reluctantly he takes them when his turn comes!
How infinitely superior to our physical senses are those of the mind!
I wish my parents hadn't made me feel that how I looked was linked to how much they loved me. But I do also see how hard it must be to see your child pile on the pounds and trust they'll find their own way back to a healthy weight.
How do I pray? I study a rose, I count the stars, I marvel at the beauty of creation and how perfectly ordered it is, at man, the most beautiful work of the Creator, his brain thirsting for knowledge, his heart for love, and his senses, all his senses alert or gratified.
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