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The only thing that is fundamental (real) is consciousness itself all else is virtual- i.e., a result of an exchange of information within consciousness.

Thomas Campbell

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Thomas Campbell
Age: 66 †
Born: 1777
Born: July 27
Died: 1844
Died: June 15
Journalist
Musicologist
Poet
Writer
Glasgow
Scotland
Real
Fundamental
Thing
Fundamentals
Result
Consciousness
Information
Results
Within
Virtual
Else
Exchange

More quotes by Thomas Campbell

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Tomorrow let us do or die!
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For Beauty's tears are lovelier than her smile.
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Fundamental assumptions in general and scientific assumptions in particular are so hard to overturn because they are based on belief. Beliefs are so hard to overcome because they are irrational and therefore do not yield to logical argument.
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The patriot's blood is the seed of Freedom's tree.
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Our land, the first garden of liberty's tree-- It has been, and shall be, the land of the free.
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Where the Scriptures speak, we speak where the Scriptures are silent, we are silent.
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Beauty's witching sway is now to me a star that's fallen-a dream that's passed away.
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The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory or the grave! Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry!
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Never wedding, ever wooing, Still a lovelorn heart pursuing, Read you not the wrong you're doing In my cheek's pale hue? All my life with sorrow strewing Wed or cease to woo.
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The proud, the cold untroubled heart of stone, that never mused on sorrow but its own.
Thomas Campbell
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What millions died that Caesar might be great!
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He scorn'd his own, who felt another's woe.
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Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky When storms prepare to part, I ask not proud Philosophy To teach me what thou art.
Thomas Campbell
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An original something, dear maid, you would wish me to write but how shall I begin? For I'm sure I have not original in me, Excepting Original Sin.
Thomas Campbell
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The meteor flag of England Shall yet terrific burn, Till danger's troubled night depart, And the star of peace return.
Thomas Campbell
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I'll meet the raging of the skies, but not an angry father.
Thomas Campbell
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What though my winged hours of bliss have been, Like angel visits, few and far between.
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One moment may with bliss repay Unnumbered hours of pain.
Thomas Campbell
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On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
Thomas Campbell
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On the green banks of Shannon, when Sheelah was nigh, No blithe Irish lad was so happy as I, No harp like my own could so cheerily play, And wherever I went was my poor dog Tray.
Thomas Campbell