Silence is an ornament for women.
SophoclesRead
Death is not the greatest of evils; it is worse to want to die, and not be able to.
Interpretation
This quote emphasizes that the desire for death, without the capacity to achieve it, can be more torturous than death itself.
In this quote, Sophocles highlights the profound suffering that can arise from a state of despair or hopelessness, where one longs for death as a relief but is ultimately unable to escape their circumstances. It suggests that the longing for an end to suffering can become a more significant burden than death, provoking deep thoughts about the nature of existence, pain, and the human condition.
In practice
This quote can be used in a discussion about mental health awareness.
Silence is an ornament for women.
None love the messenger who brings bad news.
All men make mistakes, but a good man yields when he knows his course is wrong, and repairs the evil. The only crime is pride.
Not even Ares battles against necessity.
You clearly hate to yield, but you will regret it when your anger has passed. Such natures are justly the hardest for themselves to bear.
There is nothing more hateful than bad advice.
I died from a mineral and plant became, Died from the plant, took a sentient frame; Died from the beast, donned a human dress - When by my dying did I ever grow less.
All of [the] activities here have a surreptitious end-of-the-world feel to them:... these joggers sleepwalking in the mist like shadow's who have escaped from Plato's cave
Solitude, I reflected, is the one deep necessity of the human spirit to which adequate recognition is never given in our codes. It is looked upon as a discipline or penance, but hardly ever as the indispensable, pleasant ingredient it is to ordinary life, and from this want of recognition come half our domestic troubles.
But if the Vision was true and mighty, as I know, it is true and mighty yet;for such things are of Spirit, and it is in the darkness of their eyes that men get lost.
The world is never quiet, even its silence eternally resounds with the same notes, in vibrations which escape our ears. As for those that we perceive, they carry sounds to us, occasionally a chord, never a melody.
We are not afraid of predators, we're transfixed by them, prone to weave stories and fables and chatter endlessly about them, because fascination creates preparedness, and preparedness, survival. In a deeply tribal way, we love our monsters.
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