Poetry must be human. If it is not human, it is not poetry.
Vicente AleixandreRead
Hours of solitude, hours of creation, hours of meditation. Solitude and meditation gave me an awareness, a perspective which I have never lost: that of solidarity with the rest of mankind.
Interpretation
Solitude and meditation foster awareness and connection with humanity.
In this quote, Vicente Aleixandre emphasizes the importance of solitude and meditation in developing self-awareness and a profound perspective on life. He suggests that these practices not only enhance personal creativity and reflection but also cultivate a deep sense of solidarity with others, highlighting the interconnectedness of all human experiences.
In practice
This quote could be shared during a mindfulness workshop to emphasize the benefits of solitude in personal growth.
Poetry must be human. If it is not human, it is not poetry.
And I think that, at some point, I am, as John Lewis and many others, are a bridge-builder. The goal is to bring America together and Americans. We are a great nation. But we must become a greater nation.
On the night that the Second World war was declared, there were crowds in the street. It was a summer's night and there was a blackout. On every side you heard people crying: 'Look at the moon!' The moon had been there every minute of their lives and they'd never seen it.
When you demonize Muslims as a community, as an entire group of people based on the crimes or actions of a tiny minority within that community, you have very worrying, real world effects.
And when man faces destiny, destiny ends and man comes into his own.
I had neither kith nor kin in England, and was therefore as free as air -- or as free as an income of eleven shillings and sixpence a day will permit a man to be. Under such circumstances, I naturally gravitated to London, that great cesspool into which all the loungers and idlers of the Empire are irresistibly drained.
Watch them clamber, these swift monkeys! They clamber over one another and thus drag one another into the mud and the depth. They all want to get to the throne: that is their madness — as if happiness sat on the throne. Often, mud sits on the throne — and often the throne also on mud. Mad they all appear to me, clambering monkeys and overardent. Foul smells their idol, the cold monster: foul, they smell to me altogether, these idolators.
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