Thought is an infection. In the case of certain thoughts it becomes an epidemic. p901

There were silences in my head. I could abandon myself completely to the pleasure of multiple relationships, to the beauty of the day, to the joys of the day. It was as if a cancer in me had ceased gnawing me. The cancer of introspection.

And then, unbidden, seemingly out of nowhere, a thought or image arrives. Some will float into your head like goldfish, lovely, bright, orange, and weightless, and you follow them like a child at an aquarium that was thought to be without fish. Others will step of the shadows like Boo Radley and make you catch your breath or take a step backward. They're often so rich, these unbidden thoughts, and so clear that they feel indelible. But I say write them all down anyway.

I might then squeeze the juices of my thought more fully out of me

Writing about an idea frees me of it. Thinking about it is a circle of repetitions.

Maybe the older you grow and the less easy it is to put thought into action, maybe that’s why it gets all locked up in your head and becomes a burden.

I have walked myself into my best thoughts and I know of no thought so burdensome that one cannot walk away from it...but by sitting still, and the more one sits still, the closer one comes to feeling ill.

It is not the events but our viewpoint toward events that is the determining factor. We ought to be more concerned about removing wrong thoughts from the mind than removing tumors and abscesses from the body.

The concepts of health and sickness, good and evil, better and worse, have the same use and relation to life as those of long and short, high and low to carpentry: even a short piece of wood can be three inches long. Even cancer is called a growth, and when Ramana Maharshi was dying of cancer he resisted the doctors,
saying, “It wants to grow, too. Let it.” This is, perhaps, an extreme example of renunciation — not of love
or energy — but of willing right as against wrong, and thus of renouncing one’s own separateness from
everything that happens, which is what Tillich called “the courage to be.

A moment or two of serious self-scrutiny, and you might observe that you no more decide the next thought you think than the next thought I write.

Cancer... the process of creation gone wild, I thought.

Disease Carrying thoughts swarm and multiply in the dark and twisted labyrinths of our minds, and all that is needed is a mob and a good political slogan for the epidemic to be spread once again, with a burst of automatic weapons or a mushroom cloud.

Rather I fear on the contrary that while we banish painful thoughts we may banish memory as well.

But a far more virulent strain survived. It's having sex with your thoughts. You'll give birth to increasingly more monstrous ideas.