As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, / I must not look to have; but, in their stead, / Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, / Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not" (5.3.25-28).
William ShakespeareRead
There's hope a great man's memory may outlive his life half a year.
Interpretation
A significant person's legacy can endure long after their death.
This quote by Shakespeare reflects on the enduring nature of a great man's influence and memory, suggesting that even after a person has passed away, their impact on the world can continue to inspire and shape the thoughts of others. It emphasizes the notion that greatness is not ephemeral, but can transcend time, as the deeds and thoughts of remarkable individuals may be remembered and cherished by future generations.
In practice
During a memorial service, this quote can be used to honor a beloved figure.
As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, / I must not look to have; but, in their stead, / Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, / Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not" (5.3.25-28).
Love bears it out even to the edge of doom.
Good company, good wine, good welcome, can make good people.
Absence doth sharpen love, presence strengthens it; the one brings fuel, the other blows it till it burns clear.
Lord, Lord, how this world is given to lying!
Give it an understanding, but no tongue.
To live remains an art which everyone must learn, and which no one can teach.
As it turned out, though, it was a lot easier to say that someone deserved to die for what they did than it was to take the responsibility to make that happen.
Obscenity only comes in when the mind despises and fears the body, and the body hates and resists the mind.
Accepting the reality of our sinfulness means accepting our authentic self. Judas could not face his shadow; Peter could. The latter befriended the impostor within; the former raged against him.
I think part of picking where you live in New York is accepting who you are. Really looking at yourself and going, 'Yeah, I'm not cool enough for the West Village.'
I am bored with gabbers and their gab; my soul abhors them. . . . Is there any place where there is no traffic in empty talk? Is there on this earth one who does not worship himself talking?
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