No one should approach the temple of science with the soul of a money changer.
Thomas BrowneRead
Men that look no further than their outsides, think health an appurtenance unto life, and quarrel with their constitutions for being sick; but I that have examined the parts of man, and know upon what tender filaments that fabric hangs, do wonder that we are not always so; and considering the thousand doors that lead to death, do thank my God that we can die but once.
Interpretation
The quote reflects on the fragility of life and the deeper understanding of health and existence.
Thomas Browne's quote delves into the notion that many people overlook the complexities of health and life, focusing only on external appearances. He expresses gratitude for the single opportunity to face death, emphasizing the delicate nature of human existence and pondering why we are not more grateful for life given its inherent frailty.
In practice
This quote could be used in a philosophical discussion about the nature of life and health.
No one should approach the temple of science with the soul of a money changer.
Content may dwell in all stations. To be low but above contempt may be high enough to be happy.
Thus there are two books from whence I collect my Divinity; besides that written one of God, another of his servant Nature, that universal and public Manuscript, that lies expans'd unto the eyes of all; those that never saw him in the one, have discovered him in the other.
To be content with death may be better than to desire it.
Life itself is but the shadow of death, and souls departed but the shadows of the living.
The long habit of living indisposeth us for dying.
Slaves sing most when they are most unhappy. The songs of the slave represent the sorrows of his heart; and he is relieved by them, only as an aching heart is relieved by its tears.
Do things for people not because of who they are or what they do in return, but because of who you are.
RICH, adj. Holding in trust and subject to an accounting the property of the indolent, the incompetent, the unthrifty, the envious and the luckless.
Live for an ideal, and that one ideal alone. Let it be so great, so strong, that there may be nothing else left in the mind; no place for anything else, no time for anything else.
Melancholy is at the bottom of everything, just as at the end of all rivers is the sea. Can it be otherwise in a world where nothing lasts, where all that we have loved or shall love must die? Is death, then, the secret of life? The gloom of an eternal mourning enwraps, more or less closely, every serious and thoughtful soul, as night enwraps the universe.
Children are still the way you were as a child, sad and happy in just the same way-and if you think of your childhood, you once again live among them, among the solitary children.
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