Of what use is a philosopher who doesn't hurt anybody's feelings?
DiogenesRead
Man is the most intelligent of the animals - and the most silly.
Interpretation
This quote highlights the dual nature of humanity, possessing great intelligence yet often acting foolishly.
Diogenes' quote reflects the complexity of human nature, emphasizing that while humans are capable of profound intelligence and reasoning, they are also prone to foolishness and irrational behavior. This duality serves as a reminder that intelligence does not guarantee wisdom or common sense, revealing the contradictions inherent in the human experience.
In practice
This quote can be used in a discussion about the paradoxes of human behavior.
Of what use is a philosopher who doesn't hurt anybody's feelings?
The art of being a slave is to rule one's master.
As a matter of self-preservation, a man needs good friends or ardent enemies, for the former instruct him and the latter take him to task.
I am not an Athenian or a Greek, but a citizen of the world.
We come into the world alone and we die alone. Why, in life, should we be any less alone?
All things are in common among friends.
Whatever the reason, for most of the present century, the literature and publicity of the old established [animal welfare] groups made a significant contribution to the prevailing attitude that dogs and cats and wild animals need protection, but other animals do not. Thus people came to think of "animal welfare" as something for kindly ladies who are dotty about cats, and not as a cause founded on basic principles of justice and morality.
To this day it is all but impossible for me to actually stop and think of my parents as white and black or to think of myself, therefore, as half and half.
From tender youth we are told by father and teacher that betrayal is the most heinous offence imaginable. But what is betrayal? Betrayal means breaking ranks and breaking off into the unknown. Sabina knew of nothing more magnificent than going off into the unknown.
They sensed that what had happened around them and in their presence, and in them, was irrevocable. Never again could it be cleansed; it would prove that man, the human species - we, in short - had the potential to construct an enormity of pain, and that pain is the only force created from nothing, without cost and without effort. It is enough not to see, not to listen, not to act.
When we die, these are the stories still on our lips. The stories we’ll only tell strangers, someplace private in the padded cell of midnight. These important stories, we rehearse them for years in our head but never tell. These stories are ghosts, bringing people back from the dead. Just for a moment. For a visit. Every story is a ghost.
May we look upon our treasure, the furniture of our houses, and our garments, and try to discover whether the seeds of war have nourishment in these our possessions.
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