Let me now explain briefly what it is that stimulates the imagination and where those images come from that enter the mind.
My first point is this. There are a great many flimsy films from the surface of objects flying about in a great many ways in all directions. When these encounter one another in the air, they easily amalgamate, like gossamer or gold- leaf. In comparison with those films that take possession of the eye and provoke sight, these are certainly of a much flimsier texture, since they penetrate through the chinks of the body and set in motion the delicate substance of the mind within and provoke these sensations.
Lucretius. On the Nature of the Universe. trans, Robert Latham. Baltimore, Maryland: Penguin Books, 1951. 152-3.
To think is not to get out of the cave; it is not to replace the uncertainty of shadows with the clearcut outlines of things themselves, the flame’s flickering glow with the light of the true Sun. To think is to enter the Labyrinth. . . . It is to lose oneself amidst the galleries which exist only because we never tire of digging them; to turn round and round at the end of a cul-de-sac whose entrance has been shut off behind us—until, inexplicably, this spinning around opens up in the surrounding walls cracks which offer passage.
Castoriadis, Cornelius. Les Carrefours du labyrinthe. Paris: Éditions du Seuil, 1978. pp. ix-x.
O’er Mithgarth Hugin and Munin both
Each day set forth to fly;
For Hugin I fear lest he come not home,
But for Munin my care is more.
Bellows, Henry Adams, trans. The Poetic Edda. American-Scandinavian Foundation, 1923. 92.
*Huginn (Old Norse for “thought”) and Muninn (“memory”) are Odin’s two raven companions who tell him everything they see and hear.