Tell troth and shame the devil.
Ben JonsonRead
It strikes! one, two, Three, four, five, six. Enough, enough, dear watch, Thy pulse hath beat enough. Now sleep and rest; Would thou could'st make the time to do so too; I'll wind thee up no more.
Interpretation
This quote reflects on the inevitability of time and the need for rest.
In this quote, Ben Jonson personifies a watch, illustrating the relentless passage of time and the idea that one must eventually come to terms with their own limits. The speaker acknowledges that both the watch and themselves have reached a point of exhaustion, suggesting a deeper commentary on mortality and the need to pause and reflect amidst life's continuous demands.
In practice
In a speech about the importance of self-care, one might say, 'As Ben Jonson noted, 'I'll wind thee up no more,' emphasizing the necessity to take breaks and rejuvenate.
Tell troth and shame the devil.
We are persons of quality, I assure you, and women of fashion, and come to see and to be seen.
All concord's born of contraries.
Queen and huntress, chaste and fair Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair, State in wonted manner keep: Hesperus entreats thy light Goddess, excellently bright.
I know no disease of the soul but ignorance, a pernicious evil, the darkener of man's life, the disturber of his reason, and common confounder of truth.
You are not now to think what's best to do, _x000D_ As in beginnings, but what must be done, _x000D_ Being thus enter'd; and slip no advantage _x000D_ That may secure you. Let them call it mischief; _x000D_ When it is past, and prosper'd , 'twill be virtue.
It has been women who have breathed gentleness and care into the hard progress of humankind.
I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree~ And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more, But dipped its top and set me down again. That would be good both going and coming back. One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.
Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?
If I stayed here, something inside me would be lost forever—something I couldn't afford to lose. It was like a vague dream, a burning, unfulfilled desire. The kind of dream people have only when they're seventeen.
After adolescence, if one's life is sufficiently interesting, the desire to tell oneself stories diminishes.
Life does not acommodate you, it shatters you. It is meant to, and it couldn't do it better. Every seed destroys its container or else there would be no fruition.
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