As down in the sunless retreats of the ocean Sweet flowers are springing no mortal can see, So deep in my soul the still prayer of devotion, Unheard by the world, rises silent to Thee. As still to the star of its worship, though clouded, The needle points faithfully o'er the dim sea, So dark when I roam in this wintry world shrouded, The hope of my spirit turns trembling to Thee.
Interpretation
The quote expresses the deep, often unrecognized devotion and hope one holds within, despite the struggles of the external world.
Charles Lamb's quote portrays the idea that true devotion and hope can exist in the depths of one's soul, akin to hidden flowers in the ocean's depths. It emphasizes that even when the world around is dark and challenging, the inner longing for connection and faith remains steadfast and unwavering, much like a needle pointing toward a star. This introspective sentiment illustrates the importance of nurturing one's inner spirit and hopes, which may not be visible to others but are deeply felt.
In practice
This quote can be shared during a meditation session to inspire deeper self-reflection.
Thus, when the lamp that lighted The traveller at first goes out, He feels awhile benighted, And looks around in fear and doubt. But soon, the prospect clearing, By cloudless starlight on he treads, And thinks no lamp so cheering As that light which Heaven sheds.
The most mortifying infirmity in human nature, to feel in ourselves, or to contemplate in another, is perhaps cowardice.
Oh, ever thus, from childhood's hour, I 've seen my fondest hopes decay; I never loved a tree or flower But 't was the first to fade away. I never nurs'd a dear gazelle, To glad me with its soft black eye, But when it came to know me well And love me, it was sure to die.
May my last breath be drawn through a pipe, and exhaled in a jest.
A pun is not bound by the laws which limit nicer wit. It is a pistol let off at the ear; not a feather to tickle the intellect.
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
The people who give you their food give you their heart.
Love is like a child, That longs for everything it can come by
Feelings dwell in man; but man dwells in his love. That is no metaphor, but the actual truth. Love does not cling to the I in such a way as to have the Thou only for its " content," its object; but love is between I and Thou. The man who does not know this, with his very being know this, does not know love; even though he ascribes to it the feelings he lives through, experiences, enjoys, and expresses.
Love is a fabric which never fades, no matter how often it is washed in the water of adversity and grief.
In the kitchens of love, after all, vice is like the pepper in a good sauce; it brings out the flavor, itβs indispensable.
It is staggering that God should love sinners, yet it is true.
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