All imperfection is easier to tolerate if served up in small doses.
Wislawa SzymborskaRead
At the very beginning of my creative life I loved humanity. I wanted to do something good for mankind. Soon I understood that it isn't possible to save mankind.
Interpretation
The quote reflects the realization that individual efforts may not be enough to save humanity as a whole.
Wislawa Szymborska's quote expresses a poignant understanding that while one may begin their creative journey with noble intentions to positively impact humanity, the complexities and challenges of the world often reveal the limitations of such aspirations. It acknowledges the idealistic desire to contribute to the greater good but ultimately confronts the sobering truth that saving humanity in its entirety may be an unattainable goal.
In practice
In a speech about artistic endeavors and social responsibility.
All imperfection is easier to tolerate if served up in small doses.
I started earning a living as a poet rather early on.
But they know about us, they know, the four corners, and the chairs nearby us. Discerning shadows also know, and even the table keeps quiet.
I prefer the absurdity of writing poems to the absurdity of not writing poems.
I've reached the age of self-knowledge, so I don't know anything. People who claim that they know something are responsible for most of the fuss in the world.
Every beginning is only a sequel, after all, and the book of events is always open halfway through.
We worship not the Graces, nor the Parcae, but Fashion. She spins and weaves and cuts with full authority. The head monkey at Paris puts on a traveler's cap, and all the monkeys in America do the same.
Art is an expression of joy and awe. It is not an attempt to share one's virtues and accomplishments with the audience, but an act of selfless spirit.
Style is wearing an evening dress to McDonald's, wearing heels to play football. It is personality, confidence and seduction.
What I need most of all is color, always, always.
The smile that flickers on a babyβs lips when he sleeps- does anyone know where it was born? Yes, there is a rumor that a young pale beam of a crescent moon touched the edge of a vanishing autumn cloud, and there the smile was first born in the dream of a dew-washed morning.
Willows whiten, aspens quiver, little breezes dusk and shiver, thro' the wave that runs forever by the island in the river, flowing down to Camelot. Four gray walls and four gray towers, overlook a space of flowers, and the silent isle imbowers, the Lady of Shalott.
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