A god implants in mortal guilt whenever he wants utterly to confound a house.
AeschylusRead
The evils of mortals are manifold; nowhere is trouble of the same wing seen.
Interpretation
Human suffering stems from many sources, and each form of trouble is unique.
In this quote, Aeschylus reflects on the complexity of human existence, emphasizing that the challenges and evils faced by people are diverse and unique to each situation. He suggests that while suffering is common to all mortals, the nature of troubles varies greatly, implying that each person's experiences are shaped by different circumstances and influences.
In practice
This quote could serve as a thoughtful reflection during a discussion on the nature of human suffering.
A god implants in mortal guilt whenever he wants utterly to confound a house.
Neither a life of anarchy nor a life under a despot should you praise. To all that lies in the middle has a god given excellence.
In every tyrant's heart there springs in the end this poison, that he cannot trust a friend.
It is not the oath that makes us believe the man, but the man the oath.
In war, truth is the first casualty.
There is no pain so great as the memory of joy in present grief.
The Absolute and the Infinite can become this universe only by limitation.
If truth were not boring, science would have done away with God long ago. But God as well as the saints is a means to escape the dull banality of truth.
The Tao gives birth to One. One gives birth to yin and yang. Yin and yang give birth to all things... The complete whole is the complete whole. So also is any part the complete whole... But forget about understanding and harmonizing and making all things one. The universe is already a harmonious oneness; just realize it.
Our strength lies in spiritual concepts. It lies in public sensitivities to evil. Our greatest danger is not from invading armies. Our dangers are that we may commit suicide from within by complaisance with evil, or by public tolerance of scandalous behavior.
Facts as facts do not always create a spirit of reality, because reality is a spirit.
I think it was Milosz, the Polish poet, who when he lay in a doorway and watched the bullets lifting the cobbles out of the street beside him realised that most poetry is not equipped for life in a world where people actually die. But some is.
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