Emotions get in the way but they don't pay me to start crying at the loss of 269 lives. They pay me to put some perspective on the situation.
Ted KoppelRead
Our society finds truth too strong a medicine to digest undiluted. In its purest form, truth is not a polite tap on the shoulder; it is a howling reproach.
Interpretation
Truth can be difficult to accept and often confronts us harshly.
Ted Koppel's quote reflects on the nature of truth in society, suggesting that people often struggle to accept it when presented in its raw form. Rather than being a gentle reminder, truth can be a harsh criticism that challenges our beliefs and behaviors, indicating our discomfort with facing it directly.
In practice
This quote could be used in a discussion about the importance of honesty in journalism.
Emotions get in the way but they don't pay me to start crying at the loss of 269 lives. They pay me to put some perspective on the situation.
My function is, as objectively and accurately as I can, to present reality to people out there, and doing that as quickly as we do is quite difficult enough, thank you.
Set your sights beyond what you can see. There is true majesty in the concept of an unseen power which can neither be measured nor weighed.
You can almost measure where you are in life by the degree to which you have begun looking back rather than ahead.
People shouldn't expect the mass media to do investigative stories. That job belongs to the 'fringe' media.
There's harmony and inner peace to be found in following a moral compass that points in the same direction regardless of fashion or trend.
The media covers what’s new – and millions of people dying is nothing new. So it stays in the background, where it’s easier to ignore. But even when we do see it or read about it, it’s difficult to keep our eyes on the problem. It’s hard to look at suffering if the situation is so complex that we don’t know how to help. And so we look away.
The history of mankind is the history of our misunderstandings with god, for he doesn't understand us, and we don't understand him.
His mouth opens. From inside him comes a slow stream, without breath, without interruption. It flows up through his body and out upon me; it passes through the cabin, through the wreck; washing the cliffs and shores of the island, it runs northward and southward to the ends of the earth. Soft and cold, dark and unending, it beats against my eyelids, against the skin of my face.
At times one remains faithful to a cause only because its opponents do not cease to be insipid.
I can't even enjoy a blade of grass unless I know there's a subway handy, or a record store or some other sign that people do not totally regret life. It's more important to confirm the least sincere. The clouds get enough attention as it is.
The hoop dancer dances within what encircles him, demonstrating how the people live in motion within the circling spirals of time and space. They are no more limited than water and sky. At green corn dance time, water and sky come together, in Indian time, to make rain.
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