None are so old as those who have outlived enthusiasm.
If a man is alive, there is always danger that he may die, though the danger must be allowed to be less in proportion as he is dead-and-alive to begin with. A man sits as many risks as he runs.
Interpretation
What this quote means
Life is filled with risks and uncertainties, and being alive means facing the possibility of danger.
This quote by Henry David Thoreau reflects on the inherent dangers of life and the constant awareness of mortality that accompanies existence. It suggests that while life presents risks, these risks may seem less daunting as one becomes more accepting of life's impermanence. The phrase 'a man sits as many risks as he runs' implies that awareness and acceptance of risk can alter how we perceive danger, inviting both caution and courage in our daily lives.
Themes
In practice
Example use cases
In a motivational speech about embracing life, one could say, 'As Thoreau reminds us, if a man is alive, there is always danger—let's not shy away from risks.'
More from Henry David Thoreau
All quotes →Through want of enterprise and faith men are where they are, buying and selling and spending their lives like servants.
An early-morning walk is a blessing for the whole day.
Have no mean hours, but be grateful for every hour, and accept what it brings. The reality will make any sincere record respectable.
As every season seems best to us in its turn, so the coming in of spring is like the creation of Cosmos out of Chaos and the realization of the Golden Age.
That grand old poem called Winter
Similar quotes
Fear no more the heat o' th' sun Nor the furious winters' rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages. Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
In contravention of my belief that any life ending in death is essentially pointless, I needed my friends to open up that plastic bag and take one last look at me. Someone had to remember me, if only for a few more minutes in the vast silent waiting room of time.
For in grief nothing "stays put." One keeps on emerging from a phase, but it always recurs. Round and round. Everything repeats. Am I going in circles, or dare I hope I am on a spiral? But if a spiral, am I going up or down it? How often -- will it be for always? -- how often will the vast emptiness astonish me like a complete novelty and make me say, "I never realized my loss till this moment"? The same leg is cut off time after time.
I cannot rest from travel: I will drink Life to the lees: all times I have enjoyed Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those That loved me, and alone.
There are so many things to be tortured about, sweet pea. So many torturous things in this life. Don't let the man who doesn't love you be one of them.
I did not want my tombstone to read, 'She kept a really clean house.'