Spires whose "silent finger points to heaven."
Interpretation
This quote suggests that certain structures (like spires) inspire contemplation of the divine or higher truths.
William Wordsworth's quote, 'Spires whose silent finger points to heaven,' illustrates how tall structures, often associated with places of worship, serve as symbolic reminders of spirituality and our connection to a higher power. The imagery evokes a sense of tranquility and reverence, suggesting that these architectural forms guide our thoughts towards contemplation of the divine, emphasizing the relationship between the physical and the spiritual realms.
In practice
This quote can be used in a speech about the importance of architecture in inspiring spirituality.
For mightier far_x000D_ _x000D_ Than strength of nerve or sinew, or the sway_x000D_ _x000D_ Of magic potent over sun and star,_x000D_ _x000D_ Is love, though oft to agony distrest,_x000D_ _x000D_ And though his favourite be feeble woman's breast.
By all means sometimes be alone; salute thyself; see what thy soul doth wear; dare to look in thy chest; and tumble up and down what thou findest there.
There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,_x000D_ _x000D_ The earth, and every common sight,_x000D_ _x000D_ To me did seem_x000D_ _x000D_ Apparelled in celestial light,_x000D_ _x000D_ The glory and the freshness of a dream.
Books are yours, Within whose silent chambers treasure lies Preserved from age to age; more precious far Than that accumulated store of gold And orient gems, which, for a day of need, The Sultan hides deep in ancestral tombs. These hoards of truth you can unlock at will.
The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! The Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune.
Shalt show us how divine a thing A woman may be made.
We love the old saints, missionaries, martyrs, and reformers. Our Luthers, Bunyans, Wesleys and Asburys, etc... We will write their biographies, reverence their memories, frame their epitaphs, and build their monuments. We will do anything except imitate them. We cherish the last drop of their blood, but watch carefully over the first drop of our own.
I think that my darkest moment was the Iraq war and the fact that we could not stop it.
I hardly ever talk- words seem such a waste, and they are none of them true. No one has yet invented a language from my point of view.
If women are not perceived to be fully within the structures of power, surely it is power that we need to redefine rather than women?
If we try to secure the well-being of others, we will, at the same time, create the conditions for our own.
God is dead, God remains dead, and we have killed him.
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