The perceptive act is a reaction of the mind upon the object of which it is the perception.

In the perception of a tree we can distinguish the act of experiencing, or perceiving, from the thing experienced, or perceived.

But though cognition is not an element of mental action, nor even in any real sense of the word an aspect of it, the distinction of cognition and conation has if properly defined a definite value.

Psychology is the science of the act of experiencing, and deals with the whole system of such acts as they make up mental life.

The interval between a cold expectation and a warm desire may be filled by expectations of varying degrees of warmth or by desires of varying degrees of coldness.

Curiosity begins as an act of tearing to pieces or analysis.

It may be added, to prevent misunderstanding, that when I speak of contemplated objects in this last phrase as objects of contemplation, the act of contemplation itself is of course an enjoyment.

But unfortunately Locke treated ideas of reflection as if they were another class of objects of contemplation beside ideas of sensation.

An expectation is a future object, recognised as belonging to me.

Both expectations and memories are more than mere images founded on previous experience.

We cannot therefore say that mental acts contain a cognitive as well as a conative element.

Lost in time but now I am saved by grace.

Breathe a word of prayer, not anger.

The control of the production of wealth is the control of human life itself.

The death of someone we know always reminds us that we are still alive - perhaps for some purpose which we ought to re-examine.

I think there's an enormous value to being negative. The world we live in today, negativity is not permitted.

The Lord is going to keep His people informed if they will listen.

For all their faults, right-wing authoritarian regimes more easily accept democratic reforms than left-wing totalitarian states.

When I got the job, I was sure that I wasn't going to get the job because Tom Cruise almost got the job.

What luxury, to be so happy that we can grieve over imaginary lives.

That living specimen of gall and hatred, that individual.