If you want to see mankind fully, look at a family. Within the family minds become organically one, and for this reason the family is total poetry.
Interpretation
A family embodies unity and shared experiences, reflecting the essence of humanity.
This quote highlights the idea that a family represents a microcosm of humanity, where individual identities converge and create a collective consciousness. In this unity, the intricate dynamics and deep connections formed within a family can be seen as a form of poetry, illustrating the beauty and complexity of human relationships.
In practice
During a family gathering, this quote can be shared to emphasize the importance of the bond.
Prudishness is pretense of innocence without innocence. Women have to remain prudish as long as men are sentimental, dense, and evil enough to demand of them eternal innocence and lack of education. For innocence is the only thing which can ennoble lack of education.
A classical work doesn't ever have to be understood entirely. But those who are educated and who are still educating themselves must desire to learn more and more from it.
He who does not become familiar with nature through love will never know her.
Religion can emerge in all forms of feeling: here wild anger, there the sweetest pain; here consuming hatred, there the childlike smile of serene humility.
A priest is he who lives solely in the realm of the invisible, for whom all that is visible has only the truth of an allegory.
Versatility of education can be found in our best poetry, but the depth of mankind should be found in the philosopher.
And I think my daughter knows now that our life is split in two. Half of the year is spent with Mommy working and the other is spent with no work in sight.
My family has been poor and working-class for generations. And we live - I live in this really small community in Southern Mississippi where you don't evacuate, and you have never evacuated because there are too many people in your family to evacuate.
Every mother can easily imagine losing a child. Motherhood is always half loss anyway. The three-year-old is lost at five, the five-year-old at nine. We consort with ghosts, even as we sit and eat with, scold and kiss, their current corporeal forms. We speak to people who have vanished and, when they answer us, they do the same. Naturally, the information in these speeches is garbled in the translation.
When my brother called to inform me, on the morning of May 22, 2003, that our mother Caroline Oates had died suddenly of a stroke, it was a shock from which, in a way, I have yet to recover.
Nothing is so much needed as a secure family life for a people seeking to rise out of poverty and backwardness.
As for the bracelet Mom wore to the funeral, what I did was I converted Dadβs last voice message into Morse code, and I used sky-blue beads for silence, maroon beads for breaks between letters, violet beads for breaks between words, and long and short pieces of string between the beads for long and short beeps, which are actually called blips, I think, or something. Dad would have known.
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