The hunter for aphorisms on human nature has to fish in muddy water, and he is even condemned to find much of his own mind.
F. H. BradleyRead
One said of suicide, As long as one has brains one should not blow them out. And another answered, But when one has ceased to have them, too often one cannot.
Interpretation
This quote discusses the paradox of suicide and the state of one's mental faculties when considering it.
F. H. Bradley's quote reflects the complexity surrounding the topic of suicide, suggesting that the act of ending one's life is intrinsically linked to one's mental state. It implies that those contemplating such a choice may not be in a rational frame of mind, thus highlighting the tragic irony that the ability to think through the consequences is often lost when one approaches a state of despair.
In practice
In a support group discussing mental health, this quote could be used to highlight the need for compassionate intervention.
The hunter for aphorisms on human nature has to fish in muddy water, and he is even condemned to find much of his own mind.
Where everything is bad it must be good to know the worst.
The secret of happiness is to admire without desiring. And that is not happiness.
True penitence condemns to silence. What a man is ready to recall he would be willing to repeat.
Our live experiences, fixed in aphorisms, stiffen into cold epigrams. Our heart's blood, as we write it, turns to mere dull ink.
Metaphysics is the finding of bad reasons for what we believe on instinct.
Wouldn't it be better to have a watertight law designed to catch the guilty, rather than a press release law designed to catch the headlines?
Finding the right form of debate regarding Israeli policies will remain a challenge in Germany. Even with every conceivable and warranted criticism, the danger always arises that it will be exploited by those who consciously or unconsciously present anti-Semitism in a new guise.
The voice of the special rebels and prophets, recommending discontent, should, as I have said, sound now and then suddenly, like a trumpet. But the voices of the saints and sages, recommending contentment, should sound unceasingly, like the sea.
I shared a vagrant optimism that some of us were making real progress, that we had taken an honest road, and that the best of us would inevitably make it over the top. At the same time, I felt that the life we were leading was a lost cause, that we were all actor, kidding ourselves on a senseless odyssey. It was the tension between those two poles - a restless idealism on one hand and a sense of impending doom on the other - that kept me going.
None of us really changes over time. We only become more fully what we are.
If Heaven and Earth are unable to persist, how could man?
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