And what a congress of stinks!- Roots ripe as old bait, Pulpy stems, rank, silo-rich, Leaf mold, manure, lime, piled against slippery planks, Nothing would give up life: Even the dirt kept breathing a small breath.
Theodore RoethkeRead
Long live the weeds that overwhelm_x000D_ _x000D_ My narrow vegetable realm!_x000D_ _x000D_ The bitter rock, the barren soil_x000D_ _x000D_ That force the son of man to toil;_x000D_ _x000D_ All things unholy, marred by curse,_x000D_ _x000D_ The ugly of the universe.
Interpretation
What this quote means
This quote reflects on the struggle of existence amidst harsh conditions.
The quote by Theodore Roethke delves into the relationship between man and the unforgiving aspects of nature. It emphasizes the idea that in the face of adversity, represented by weeds and barren soil, human beings must toil and confront the 'ugly' realities of life. This encapsulates a philosophical outlook on acceptance, resilience, and the inherent challenges that shape the human experience.
Themes
StruggleNatureResilienceAdversityPhilosophy
In practice
Example use cases
This quote is perfect for a discussion on the importance of perseverance in life.
More from Theodore Roethke
All quotes →My Papa's Waltz: The whiskey on your breath Could make a small boy dizzy; But I hung on like death: Such waltzing was not easy. We romped until the pans Slid from the kitchen shelf; My mother's countenance Could not unfrown itself. The hand that held my wrist Was battered on one knuckle; At every step you missed My right ear scraped a buckle. You beat time on my head With a palm caked hard by dirt, Then waltzed me off to bed Still clinging to your shirt.
Theodore RoethkeRead
Art is our defense against hysteria and death.
Theodore RoethkeRead
The indignity of it!-_x000D_ _x000D_ With everything blooming above me,_x000D_ _x000D_ Lilies, pale-pink cyclamen, roses,_x000D_ _x000D_ Whole fields lovely and inviolate,-_x000D_ _x000D_ Me down in the fetor of weeds,_x000D_ _x000D_ Crawling on all fours,_x000D_ _x000D_ Alive, in a slippery grave.
Theodore RoethkeRead
By daily dying, I have come to be.
Theodore RoethkeRead
The stones were sharp, The wind came at my back; Walking along the highway, Mincing like a cat.
Theodore RoethkeRead
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