Visions of glory, spare my aching sight! Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!
Thomas GrayRead
Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray; Along the cool sequester'd vale of life They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
Interpretation
The quote reflects on a peaceful and quiet life away from the chaos and struggles of society.
In this quote, Thomas Gray suggests that there exist individuals who choose to live a serene and undisturbed life, avoiding the chaos and trivial conflicts that often characterize humanity's struggles. These people, with sober wishes, find fulfillment in a tranquil existence, following their own steady paths in life, untouched by the noise of societal ambitions and conflicts.
In practice
At a gathering discussing the importance of mindfulness, this quote can serve to emphasize the merits of living a calm and collected life.
Visions of glory, spare my aching sight! Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!
Here rests his head upon the lap of earth, A youth to fortune and to fame unknown: Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth, And Melancholy mark'd him for her own.
Can honor's voice provoke the silent dust, or flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of death?
Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade! Ah, fields beloved in vain! Where once my careless childhood stray'd, A stranger yet to pain! I feel the gales that from ye blow A momentary bliss bestow.
Any fool may write a most valuable book by chance, if he will only tell us what he heard and saw with veracity.
Sweet is the breath of vernal shower,/ The bee's collected treasure sweet,/ Sweet music's melting fall, but sweeter yet/ The still small voice of gratitude.
Man is an intelligence in servitude to his organs.
There will be justice," said Brutha. "If there is no justice, there is nothing.
If our principal treasure be as we profess, in things spiritual and heavenly, and woe unto us if it be not so! on them will our affections, and consequently our desires and thoughts, be principally fixed.
Moralities, ethics, laws, customs, beliefs, doctrines - these are of trifling import. All that matters is that the miraculous become the norm.
An envious heart makes a treacherous ear.
The Poor Man whom everyone speaks of, the Poor Man whom everyone pities, one of the repulsive Poor from whom charitable souls keep their distance, he has still said nothing. Or, rather, he has spoken through the voice of Victor Hugo, Zola, Richepin. At least, they said so. And these shameful impostures fed their authors. Cruel irony, the Poor Man tormented with hunger feeds those who plead his case.
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