A wonderful poem simply titled ‘Thought’ by the English writer D. H. Lawrence.
Thought, I love thought.
But not the juggling and twisting of already existent ideas.
I despise that self-important game.
Thought is the welling up of unknown life into consciousness,
Thought is the testing of statements on the touchstone of consciousness,
Thought is gazing onto the face of life, and reading what can be read,
Thought is pondering over experience, and coming to conclusion.
Thought is not a trick, or an exercise, or a set of dodges,
Thought is a man in his wholeness, wholly attending.
Lawrence was hugely controversial in his day, not least due to writing Lady Chatterley’s Lover, but maintained a penetrating interest in the psychology of individuals which his stories so vividly illustrate.
Link to Wikipedia page on D.H. Lawrence.