We are slow to believe that which if believed would hurt our feelings.
OvidRead
All things human hang by a slender thread; and that which seemed to stand strong suddenly falls and sinks in ruins.
Interpretation
Life's stability is often illusory, and what seems strong can collapse unexpectedly.
This quote by Ovid reflects on the fragile nature of human existence and achievements. It suggests that everything we perceive as solid and secure can quickly deteriorate, reminding us of the unforeseen circumstances that can disrupt our lives. It serves as a cautionary note about the impermanence of our successes and the inevitability of change.
In practice
This quote can be used in a speech about resilience in the face of life's unpredictability.
We are slow to believe that which if believed would hurt our feelings.
A new idea is delicate. It can be killed by a sneer or a yawn; it can be stabbed to death by a quip and worried to death by a frown on the right man's brow.
Fas est ab hoste doceri._x000D_ One should learn even from one's enemies.
Be patient and tough; someday this pain will be useful to you.
The end doesn't justify the means.
Most safely shall you tread the middle path.
Their whole life depends on spending money, and now they’ve got none to spend. That’s our civilization and our education: bring up the masses to depend entirely on spending money, and then the money gives out.
We want no revolution; we want the brotherhood of men. We want men to love one another. We want all men to have what is sufficient for their needs. And now - strange thought - the devil has so maneuvered that the people turn from Him because those who profess Him are clothed in soft raiment and sit at well-spread tables and deny the poor.
It does not matter that only a few in each generation will grasp and achieve the full reality of man's proper stature-and the rest will betray it. It is those few that move the world and give life its meaning-and it is those few that I have always sought to address. The rest are no concern of mine; it is not me or "The Fountainhead" that they will betray: it is their own souls.
It is not God's fault. It is our fault that we suffer. Whatever we sow we reap.
I imagine the earth when I am no more: Women's dresses, dewy lilacs, a song in the valley. Yet the books will be there on the shelves, well born, Derived from people, but also from radiance, heights.
Six feet of dirt make all men equal.
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