For tyme ylost may nought recovered be.
Geoffrey ChaucerRead
But manly set the world on sixe and sevene; And, if thou deye a martir, go to hevene.
Interpretation
This quote suggests that one should confront life boldly and be ready to face death with valor.
In this quote, Chaucer conveys the idea that one must live life fearlessly and embrace the realities of existence, including the inevitability of death. The metaphor of 'setting the world on sixe and sevene' implies a state of uncertainty or precariousness, urging individuals to navigate through life's challenges with courage, knowing that martyrdom, or dying for a cause, leads to a heavenly reward.
In practice
In a motivational speech about facing fears and challenges.
For tyme ylost may nought recovered be.
For in their hearts doth Nature stir them so Then people long on pilgrimage to go And palmers to be seeking foreign strands To distant shrines renowned in sundry lands.
If gold rusts, what then can iron do?
Thus with hir fader for a certeyn space_x000D_ _x000D_ Dwelleth this flour of wyfly pacience,_x000D_ _x000D_ That neither by hir wordes ne hir face_x000D_ _x000D_ Biforn the folk, ne eek in her absence,_x000D_ _x000D_ Ne shewed she that hir was doon offence.
Ther nis no werkman, whatsoevere he be, That may bothe werke wel and hastily.
For oute of olde feldys, as men sey,_x000D_ _x000D_ Comyth al this newe corn from yer to yere;_x000D_ _x000D_ And out of olde bokis, in good fey,_x000D_ _x000D_ Comyth al this newe science that men lere.
The greatest human ideal is the great cause of bringing together the thoughts of Europe and Asia; the great soul of India will topple our world.
We must not permit our respect for the dead or our sympathy for the living to lead us into an act of injustice to the balance of the living.
Where there is injury let me sow pardon.
When a man asks himself what is meant by action he proves he isn't a man of action.
If we live good lives, the times are also good. As we are, such are the times.
But to ask pity of our body is like discoursing in front of an octopus, for which our words can have no more meaning than the sound of the tides, and with which we should be appalled to find ourselves condemned to live.
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