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
Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought.
Interpretation
Our desires often influence our thoughts and beliefs.
This quote from Shakespeare suggests that our wishes and desires can shape our thoughts, implying that what we long for can lead us to create narratives that justify or support those desires. It highlights the subjective nature of perception, indicating that people's interpretations are frequently colored by their hopes and aspirations.
In practice
In a discussion about personal aspirations, one might say, 'Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought, reminding us that our hopes shape our view of reality.'
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.
It is not the cause for which men took up arms that makes a victory more just or less, it is the order that is established when arms have been laid down.
It is Hell, of course, that makes priests powerful, not Heaven, for after thousands of years of so-called civilization fear remains the one common denominator of mankind
A society needs famous people; the question is whom it chooses for that role. Any criticism of its choice is by implication a criticism of that society.
The most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them.
If we had a keen vision of all that is ordinary in human life, it would be like hearing the grass grow or the squirrel's heart beat, and we should die of that roar which is the other side of silence.
The soul's dark cottage, batter'd and decay'd, Lets in new light through chinks that Time has made. Stronger by weakness, wiser men become As they draw near to their eternal home: Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view That stand upon the threshold of the new.
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