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.
Gentle Jesus, meek and mild' is a snivelling modern invention, with no warrant in the gospels.
It seems to me that terrestrial beings, as they become more autonomous, psychologically richer, shut themselves up in a way against one another, and at the same time gradually become strangers to the cosmic environment and currents, impenetrable to one another, and incapable of exteriorizing themselves.
In the 21st century, we can't create security by building walls.
Call no man happy, said Shadow, until he is dead
"Then we are living in a place abandoned by God," I said, disheartened. "Have you found any places where God would have felt at home?" William asked me, looking down from his great height.
My airplane is quiet, and for a moment still an alien, still a stranger to the ground, I am home.
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