She forced herself once more to think of nothing, to keep her consciousness immersed, as a little dog that one keeps under water until he has stopped struggling

Was all this real to her? Did she think it was temporary? Or maybe that was the point of love: not to think.

"That may be the reason he does so many things," she said, "so that he will not have to think."

The mind becomes accustomed to things by the habitual sight of them, and neither wonders nor inquires about the reasons for things it sees all the time.

I try not to think too much. Like other things now, thought must be rationed

For now she need not think of anybody. She could be herself, by herself. And that was what now she often felt the need of - to think; well not even to think. To be silent; to be alone. All the being and the doing, expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated; and one shrunk, with a sense of solemnity, to being oneself, a wedge-shaped core of darkness, something invisible to others... and this self having shed its attachments was free for the strangest adventures.

"Don't think of what's past!" said she. "I am not going to think outside of now. Why should we! Who knows what tomorrow has in store? "

I couldn't bear to think about it; and yet, somehow, I couldn't think about nothing else.

Give up thinking as though not giving it up. Observe techniques as though not observing.

He rested sitting on the un-stepped mast and sail and tried not to think but only to endure.

She wondered how to un-know certain things, certain specific things that she knew but did not wish to know

Stop thinking and start feeling.

One goes to college to learn, it seems, not to think.

I am, I am, I exist, I think therefore I am; I am because I think, why do I think? I don't want to think anymore.