If two lives join, there is oft a scar. They are one and one, with a shadowy third; One near one is too far.
Robert BrowningRead
Paracelsus At times I almost dream I too have spent a life the sages’ way, And tread once more familiar paths. Perchance I perished in an arrogant self-reliance Ages ago; and in that act a prayer For one more chance went up so earnest, so Instinct with better light let in by death, That life was blotted out — not so completely But scattered wrecks enough of it remain, Dim memories, as now, when once more seems The goal in sight again.
Interpretation
What this quote means
The quote reflects on the idea of life's journey, the potential for rebirth through death, and the wisdom gained through experience.
In this quote by Robert Browning, the speaker meditates on the complex nature of existence, suggesting that past experiences and mistakes inform present aspirations. It conveys a sense of yearning for enlightenment and the possibility of redemption, as the speaker recalls fragments of a life once lived, hinting at the belief that wisdom often arises from the trials of life and the reflection on one's past choices. There is a profound acknowledgment of life’s cyclical nature, where death may not signify an end but rather a transformation that allows for new insights and opportunities.
Themes
LifeWisdomExperienceReflectionTransformation
In practice
Example use cases
During a motivational speech about personal growth.
More from Robert Browning
All quotes →Tis Man's to explore up and down, inch by inch, with the taper his reason.
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I think, am sure, a brother's love exceeds_x000D_ _x000D_ All the world's loves in its unworldliness.
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I dare not so honor my mere wishes and prayers as to put them for a moment beside your noble acts; but this know, I would rather submit to the worst of deaths, so far as pain goes, than have a single dog or cat tortured on the pretence of sparing me a twinge or two.
Robert BrowningRead
How well I know what I mean to do When the long dark Autumn evenings come, And where, my soul, is thy pleasant hue? With the music of all thy voices, dumb In life’s November too! I shall be found by the fire, suppose, O’er a great wise book as beseemeth age, While the shutters flap as the cross-wind blows, And I turn the page, and I turn the page, Not verse now, only prose!
Robert BrowningRead
How good is life, the mere living!
Robert BrowningRead
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