Technology... the knack of so arranging the world that we don't have to experience it.
Max FrischRead
You can put anything into words, except your own life.
Interpretation
This quote suggests that while we can articulate many experiences and emotions, the essence of our own life is often beyond description.
Max Frisch's quote highlights the complexity of human existence and the challenges inherent in fully expressing our own experiences and identities. It implies that language, while powerful, has its limitations when it comes to capturing the depth of personal living, suggesting that there are aspects of life that remain ineffable and deeply personal, often felt more than articulated.
In practice
In a discussion about the challenges of self-expression, this quote can serve as a reminder of the limitations we face.
Technology... the knack of so arranging the world that we don't have to experience it.
We live technologically, with man as the master of nature, man as the engineer, and let anyone who raises his voice against it stop using bridges not built by nature.... No electric light bulbs, no engines, no atomic energy, no calculating machines, no anaesthetics-back to the jungle.
When we travel, we are like a film at the moment of exposure; it is memory that will develop it.
We live in an age of reproduction. Most of what makes up our personal picture of the world we have never seen with our own eyes--or rather, we've seen it with our own eyes, but not on the spot: our knowledge comes to us from a distance, we are televiewers, telehearers, teleknowers.
Nothing is harder than to accept oneself.
A society needs famous people; the question is whom it chooses for that role. Any criticism of its choice is by implication a criticism of that society.
You don't need a Harvard MBA to know that the bedroom and the boardroom are just two sides of the same ballgame.
This is the gravest danger that today threatens civilization: State intervention; the absorption of all spontaneous social effort by the State, that is to say, of spontaneous historical action, which in the long run sustains, nourishes, and impels human destinies.
When god decided to invent everything he took one reath bigger than a circustent and everything began
Paris. Toulouse. Malmo. Copenhagen. Brussels. Berlin. For most people, they are lovely cities where you might happily take a holiday. But for the world's Jews, they are something else, too. They are place names of hate.
There are slavish souls who carry their appreciation for favors done them so far that they strangle themselves with the rope of gratitude.
I say it in the writers' room all the time: My black is not your black. What's terrifying is that, just the same way we've all accepted that normal is white, everybody seems to buy into the idea that there's only one way to be black or one way to be Hispanic. That's as damaging as anything else.
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