And enough for me that when my hand touched your shoulder, you leaned on me; and when you felt me slip away, you called my name.
Orson Scott CardRead
Someday stars will wind down or blow up. Someday death will cover us all like the water of a lake and perhaps nothing will ever come to the surface to show that we were ever there. But we WERE there, and during the time we lived, we were alive. That's the truth - what is, what was, what will be - not what could be, what should have been, what never can be.
Interpretation
The quote reflects on the certainty of death and the importance of acknowledging our existence and experiences while alive.
Orson Scott Card's quote confronts the inevitability of death and the transient nature of life. It emphasizes that, although our physical presence may eventually fade and be forgotten, the fact that we lived and experienced life is what truly matters. The quote challenges the focus on unrealized potential or regrets, urging us to value our existence and the moments we have, as they shape our reality and define our truth.
In practice
In a graduation speech to inspire students to appreciate their time and experiences.
And enough for me that when my hand touched your shoulder, you leaned on me; and when you felt me slip away, you called my name.
The world is always a democracy in times of flux, and the man with the best voice will win.
Never mind that the story had turned out to be lies and foolishness—there was always folks stupid enough to say, Where there's smoke there's fire, when the saying should have been, Where there's scandalous lies there's always malicious believers and spreaders-around, regardless of evidence.
The lives of all people flow through time, and, regardless of how brutal one moment may be, how filled with grief or pain or fear, time flows through all lives equally.
You take a step, then another. That's the journey. But to take a step with your eyes open is not a journey at all, it's a remaking of your own mind.
I've had your tears with mine, and you've had mine with yours. I think that's more intimate even than a kiss.
We want to answer this classical question, who am I? So I think that most of our works are for art, or whatever we do, including science or religion, tried to answer that question.
The idealist is incorrigible: if he is thrown out of his heaven he makes an ideal of his hell.
There are no happy endings in history, only crisis points that pass.
I was taught that Jesus the Son of God was a white man, and hearing black people singing, 'Lord, wash me, and I will be whiter than snow,' made me sick.
Isn't it too bad that the great truths are all such lies.
To affirm that God is God is to want to live in a particular way.
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