And what a congress of stinks!- Roots ripe as old bait, Pulpy stems, rank, silo-rich, Leaf mold, manure, lime, piled against slippery planks, Nothing would give up life: Even the dirt kept breathing a small breath.
Theodore RoethkeRead
The self says, I am; The heart says, I am less; The spirit says, you are Nothing.
Interpretation
What this quote means
This quote explores the relationship between self-identity, humility, and the essence of being.
In this quote, Theodore Roethke delves into the layered complexities of human existence. The self declares its presence with confidence, while the heart recognizes its limitations and the need for humility. Ultimately, the spirit transcends individuality, suggesting that true essence is found in the unity and interconnectedness of all beings, leading to the profound realization of 'nothingness' beyond the ego.
Themes
SelfIdentityHumilitySpiritExistencePhilosophy
In practice
Example use cases
In a meditation group, this quote could serve as a foundation for a discussion on self-awareness and identity.
More from Theodore Roethke
All quotes βMy Papa's Waltz: The whiskey on your breath Could make a small boy dizzy; But I hung on like death: Such waltzing was not easy. We romped until the pans Slid from the kitchen shelf; My mother's countenance Could not unfrown itself. The hand that held my wrist Was battered on one knuckle; At every step you missed My right ear scraped a buckle. You beat time on my head With a palm caked hard by dirt, Then waltzed me off to bed Still clinging to your shirt.
Theodore RoethkeRead
Art is our defense against hysteria and death.
Theodore RoethkeRead
The indignity of it!-_x000D_ _x000D_ With everything blooming above me,_x000D_ _x000D_ Lilies, pale-pink cyclamen, roses,_x000D_ _x000D_ Whole fields lovely and inviolate,-_x000D_ _x000D_ Me down in the fetor of weeds,_x000D_ _x000D_ Crawling on all fours,_x000D_ _x000D_ Alive, in a slippery grave.
Theodore RoethkeRead
By daily dying, I have come to be.
Theodore RoethkeRead
The stones were sharp, The wind came at my back; Walking along the highway, Mincing like a cat.
Theodore RoethkeRead
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