NOT, I’ll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee; Not untwist—slack they may be—these last strands of man In me ór, most weary, cry I can no more. I can; Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be.
Gerard Manley HopkinsRead
I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day. What hours, O what black hours we have spent This night!
Interpretation
The quote expresses a sense of sorrow and anxiety about the dark and difficult hours spent during the night.
Gerard Manley Hopkins reflects on the emotional weight of darkness and despair experienced during the night. The imagery of 'dark' contrasting with 'day' emphasizes a struggle against despair, leading to a contemplation of the burdensome hours that have passed, highlighting the theme of suffering and the human experience of grappling with inner turmoil.
In practice
During a discussion about depression, this quote can illustrate the feelings experienced during dark times.
NOT, I’ll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee; Not untwist—slack they may be—these last strands of man In me ór, most weary, cry I can no more. I can; Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be.
And for all this, nature is never spent; There lives the dearest freshness deep down things; And though the last lights off the black West went Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs— Because the Holy Ghost over the bent World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.
Look at the stars! Look, look up at the skies! Oh look at all the fire-folk sitting in the air! The bright boroughs, the circle-citadels there!
Let Him easter in us, be a dayspring to the dimness of us, be a crimson-cresseted east.
Birds buildbut not I build; no, but strain, Time's eunuch, and not breed one work that wakes. Mine,O thou lord of life, send my roots rain.
Nothing is so beautiful as spring - when weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush; Thrush's eggs look little low heavens, and thrush through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring the ear, it strikes like lightning to hear him sing.
Paradise was unendurable, otherwise the first man would have adapted to it; this world is no less so, since here we regret paradise or anticipate another one. What to do? Where to go? Do nothing and go nowhere, easy enough.
Sweet Memory! wafted by thy gentle gale, Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail.
An evil for these times destined to move through the world in handsome human guise.
All action is for the sake of some end; and rules of action, it seems natural to suppose, must take their whole character and color from the end to which they are subservient.
This evolution towards a real responsibility for others is sometimes blocked by fear. It is easier to stay on the level of a pleasant way of life in which we keep our freedom and our distance. But that means that we stop growing and shut ourselves up in our own small concerns and pleasures.
I shall revenge myself in the cruelest way you can imagine. I shall forget it.
Subscribe for the occasional hand-picked quote. No noise.