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What? Was man made a wheel-work to wind up, And be discharged, and straight wound up anew? No! grown, his growth lasts; taught, he ne'er forgets: May learn a thousand things, not twice the same.
Robert Browning
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Interpretation

What this quote means

The quote questions the purpose of human existence, asserting that humans are more than mere machines and possess the ability to grow and learn uniquely.

In this quote, Robert Browning challenges the notion that humans are like machines, designed to function in a repetitive cycle of winding up and being discharged. Instead, he emphasizes the continuous growth and learning capabilities of individuals, asserting that each person's experiences and knowledge are unique and not bound to repetition. This philosophical reflection invites readers to recognize the dynamic, evolving nature of human life and intellect, suggesting that education and personal development are lifelong processes that enrich our existence.

Themes

GrowthLearningHumanityExistencePhilosophyDevelopment

In practice

Example use cases

In a discussion about personal growth at a leadership seminar.

More from Robert Browning

If two lives join, there is oft a scar. They are one and one, with a shadowy third; One near one is too far.
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Tis Man's to explore up and down, inch by inch, with the taper his reason.
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I think, am sure, a brother's love exceeds_x000D_ _x000D_ All the world's loves in its unworldliness.
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I dare not so honor my mere wishes and prayers as to put them for a moment beside your noble acts; but this know, I would rather submit to the worst of deaths, so far as pain goes, than have a single dog or cat tortured on the pretence of sparing me a twinge or two.
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How well I know what I mean to do When the long dark Autumn evenings come, And where, my soul, is thy pleasant hue? With the music of all thy voices, dumb In life’s November too! I shall be found by the fire, suppose, O’er a great wise book as beseemeth age, While the shutters flap as the cross-wind blows, And I turn the page, and I turn the page, Not verse now, only prose!
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How good is life, the mere living!
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