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There is an hour of the afternoon when the plain is on the verge of saying something. It never says, or perhaps it says it infinitely, or perhaps we do not understand it, or we understand it and it is untranslatable as music.
Jorge Luis Borges
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Interpretation

What this quote means

This quote reflects on the elusive nature of communication and understanding, particularly in relation to profound experiences or feelings.

In this quote, Jorge Luis Borges meditates on the ineffable quality of certain moments in nature, suggesting that there is an intimated message or feeling during the afternoon when the landscape seems poised to reveal something deeper. However, this message may be beyond verbal articulation, akin to music, highlighting the limitations of language in conveying the richness of our experiences and perceptions.

Themes

CommunicationUnderstandingNatureExperienceIneffable

In practice

Example use cases

This quote can be shared during a discussion on the power of art to communicate feelings that words cannot.

More from Jorge Luis Borges

You can't measure time by days, the way you measure money by dollars and cents, because dollars are all the same while every day is different and maybe every hour as well.
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To say good-bye is to deny separation; it is to say Today we play at going our own ways, but we'll see each other tomorrow. Men invented farewells because they somehow knew themselves to be immortal, even while seeing themselves as contingent and ephemeral.
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The execution was set for the 29th of March, at nine in the morning. This delay was due to a desire on the part of the authorities to act slowly and impersonally, in the manner of planets or vegetables.
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This felicitous supposition declared that there is only one Individual, and that this indivisible Individual is every one of the separate beings in the universe, and that these beings are the instruments and masks of divinity itself.
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A man sets out to draw the world. As the years go by, he peoples a space with images of provinces, kingdoms, mountains, bays, ships, islands, fishes, rooms, instruments, stars, horses, and individuals. A short time before he dies, he discovers that the patient labyrinth of lines traces the lineaments of his own face.
Jorge Luis BorgesRead
Let neither tear nor reproach besmirch this declaration of the mastery of God who, with magnificent irony, granted me both the gift of books and the night.
Jorge Luis BorgesRead

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