It takes a wonderful brain and exquisite senses to produce a few stupid ideas.
George SantayanaRead
The little word is has its tragedies: it marries and identifies different things with the greatest innocence; and yet no two are ever identical, and if therein lies the charm of wedding them and calling them one, therein too lies the danger.
Interpretation
The word 'is' connects concepts but may obscure their true differences, leading to both beauty and peril.
In this quote, George Santayana reflects on the simplicity and complexity inherent in the word 'is'. It serves as a connector that marries different concepts or identities, suggesting unity. However, the beauty of this connection is tempered by the reality that no two entities are truly identical, and this oversimplification can lead to misunderstandings and dangers in perception.
In practice
In a speech about the power of language, you might quote Santayana to illustrate how words shape our understanding.
It takes a wonderful brain and exquisite senses to produce a few stupid ideas.
The working of great institutions is mainly the result of a vast mass of routine, petty malice, self interest, carelessness and sheer mistake. Only a residual fraction is thought.
There is no cure for birth and death save to enjoy the interval. The dark background which death supplies brings out the tender colours of life in all their purity.
Not to believe in love is a great sign of dullness. There are some people so indirect and lumbering that they think all real affection rests on circumstantial evidence.
To feel beauty is a better thing than to understand how we come to feel it. To have imagination and taste, to love the best, to be carried by the contemplation of nature to a vivid faith in the ideal, all this is more, a great deal more, than any science can hope to be.
The vital straining towards an ideal, definite but latent, when it dominates a whole life, may express that ideal more fully than could the best chosen words.
What's happening now is what happened before, and often what's going to happen again sometime or other
It seemed to Scobie that life was immeasurably long. Couldn’t the test of man have been carried out in fewer years? Couldn’t we have committed our first major sin at seven, have ruined ourselves for love or hate at ten, have clutched at redemption on a fifteen-year-old deathbed?
I'm doing philosophy like an old woman, first I'm looking for my pencil, then I'm looking for my glasses, then I'm looking for my pencil again.
One must be a great man indeed to be able to hold out even against common sense." "Or else a fool.
The color of his pallor, however, was a curiously basic white - unmixed, that is, with the greens and yellows of guilt or abject contrition. It was very like the standard bloodlessness in the face of a small boy who loves animals to distraction, all animals, and who has just seen his favourite, bunny-loving sister's expression as she opened the box containing his birthday present to her - a freshly caught young cobra, with a red ribbon tied in an awkward bow around its neck.
Embrace your grief. For there, your soul will grow.
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