My rational mind - and conscience - are telling me to end it.

I can feel my rational mind, the fine-tuning of its clockwork mechanism, begin to slip, as if it's been over-oiled.

She believes in facts, in the rational mind, in the firing of synapses.

Of course, my rational mind told me his equipment failure had nothing to do with me.

Yet my rational mind also insists that those images are only half of reality.