It is a socialist idea that making profits is a vice; I consider the real vice is making losses.
Winston ChurchillRead
He sees with amazement that our defeats are but the stepping stones to victory and that all his victories are stepping stones to ruin. It was apparent to me that this bad man saw quite clearly the shadow of slowly and remorselessly approaching doom, and he railed at fortune for mocking him with the glitter of fleeting success.
Interpretation
Defeats can lead to future victories, while victories can sometimes lead to downfall.
In this quote, Churchill reflects on the dual nature of success and failure, suggesting that setbacks often pave the way for ultimate triumph, whereas triumphs may contain the seeds of future failure. This perspective emphasizes the transient nature of success and the importance of resilience in the face of defeat, illustrating how one's approach to both can shape their destiny.
In practice
During a motivational speech about overcoming obstacles in life.
It is a socialist idea that making profits is a vice; I consider the real vice is making losses.
The United States is like a gigantic boiler. Once the fire is lit under it, there's no limit to the power it can generate.
Politics is almost as exciting as war, and quite as dangerous. In war you can only be killed once, but in politics many times.
I will not pretend that if I had to choose between communism and Nazism I would choose communism.
Mountaintops inspire leaders but valleys mature them.
True genius resides in the capacity for evaluation of uncertain, hazardous, and conflicting information.
The true conservative is the man who has a real concern for injustices and takes thought against the day of reckoning.
The Word, then, the Christ, is the cause both of our ancient beginning, for lie was in God, and of our well-being. And now this same Word has appeared as man. He alone is both God and man, and the source of all our good things
Sometimes immense things, like war and death and aging, are best seen from the corner of the eye and written of only obliquely, with tremendous lightness.
Conscience doth make cowards of us all.
We do not work for men. We work for the land and the people. We do not even work for money.
Inside me is the same desperate hope I have watching the ravenous dead and thinking, Oh please, oh please, oh please. The craving inside of me is to be clutched at by some dead girl. To put my ear to her chest and hear nothing. Even getting munched on by zombies beats the idea that I'm only flesh and blood, skin and bone. Demon or angel or evil spirit, I just need something to show itself. Ghoulie or ghosty or long-legged beastie, I just want my hand held.
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