The true secret of giving advice is, after you have honestly given it, to be perfectly indifferent whether it is taken or not, and never persist in trying to set people right.
Henry Ward BeecherRead
October is nature's funeral month. Nature glories in death more than in life. The month of departure is more beautiful than the month of coming - October than May. Every green thin loves to die in bright colors.
Interpretation
October represents a time of beauty in nature as it transitions into winter, showcasing vibrant colors in plants before they die.
Henry Ward Beecher's quote illustrates the beauty found in the natural cycle of life and death, particularly emphasizing the month of October. He suggests that nature's transformation during this time, with its vibrant colors and dramatic changes, is more aesthetically pleasing than the growth and renewal seen in spring. Thus, October serves as a poignant reminder of the beauty inherent in endings as much as in beginnings.
In practice
This quote can be shared during a fall nature walk to reflect on the beauty of autumn.
The true secret of giving advice is, after you have honestly given it, to be perfectly indifferent whether it is taken or not, and never persist in trying to set people right.
A man who cannot get angry is like a stream that cannot overflow, that is always turbid. Sometimes indignation is as good as a thunderstorm in summer, clearing and cooling the air.
No one can deal with the hearts of men unless he has the sympathy which is given by love.
We are always on the anvil; by trials God is shaping us for higher things.
No man can tell if he is rich or poor by turning to his ledger. It is the heart that makes a man rich. He is rich according to what he is, not according to what he has.
There are joys which long to be ours. God sends ten thousands truths, which come about us like birds seeking inlet; but we are shut up to them, and so they bring us nothing, but sit and sing awhile upon the roof, and then fly away.
I see the entire world as Eden, and every time you take an inch of it away, you must do so with respect.
Destroying rainforest for economic gain is like burning a Renaissance painting to cook a meal.
Sometimes since I've been in the garden I've looked up through the trees at the sky and I have had a strange feeling of being happy as if something was pushing and drawing in my chest and making me breathe fast. Magic is always pushing and drawing and making things out of nothing. Everything is made out of magic, leaves and trees, flowers and birds, badgers and foxes and squirrels and people. So it must be all around us. In this garden - in all the places.
I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says "Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.
Birds are the last of the dinosaurs. Tiny velociraptors with wings. Devouring defenseless wiggly things and, and nuts, and fish, and, and other birds. They get the early worms. And have you ever watched a chicken eat? They may look innocent, but birds are, well, they're vicious.
I suppose there were moonless nights and dark ones with but a silver shaving and pale stars in the sky, but I remember them all as flooded with the rich indolence of a full moon.
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