Perhaps our only sickness is to desire a truth which we cannot bear rather than to rest content with the fictions we manufacture out of each other.
Lawrence DurrellRead
Like all young men I set out to be a genius, but mercifully laughter intervened.
Interpretation
The pursuit of genius can be disrupted by the lightness of laughter, which reminds us of our humanity.
This quote reflects the balance between the serious aspirations of youth and the unexpected joy brought by laughter. Lawrence Durrell suggests that while young people often strive for greatness and genius, it is the humor and lightness in life that provides a necessary counterbalance and a more relatable perspective on ambitions.
In practice
During a graduation speech, to highlight the importance of taking life lightly while pursuing dreams.
Perhaps our only sickness is to desire a truth which we cannot bear rather than to rest content with the fictions we manufacture out of each other.
I had become, with the approach of night, once more aware of loneliness and time - those two companions without whom no journey can yield us anything.
Journeys, like artists, are born and not made. A thousand differing circumstances contribute to them, few of them willed or determined by the will-whatever we may think.
The whole Mediterranean, the sculpture, the palm, the gold beads, the bearded heroes, the wine, the ideas, the ships, the moonlight, the winged gorgons, the bronze men, the philosophers - all of it seems to rise in the sour, pungent taste of these black olives between the teeth. A taste older than meat, older than wine. A taste as old as cold water.
The heaviest impact of the work of art is in the guts. Art does not reason. It manhandles you and changes you.
We are the children of our landscape; it dictates behavior and even thought in the measure to which we are responsive to it.
If men would consider not so much wherein they differ, as wherein they agree, there would be far less of uncharitableness and angry feeling in the world.
Because neither she nor Port had ever lived a life of any kind of regularity, they had both made the fatal error of coming hazily to regard time as non-existent. One year was like another year. Eventually everything would happen.
When the body sinks into death, the essence of man is revealed. Man is a knot, a web, a mesh into which relationships are tied. Only those relationships matter. The body is an old crock that nobody will miss. I have never known a man to think of himself when dying. Never.
Men become cannibals of their own hearts; remorse, regret, and restless impatience usurp the place of more wholesome feeling: every thing seems better than that which is.
O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock The meat it feeds on.
Whatsoever is, is in God, and without God nothing can be, or be conceived.
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