And yet, and yet, in these our ghostly lives, Half night, half day, half sleeping, half awake, How if our waking life, like that of sleep, Be all a dream in that eternal life To which we wake not till we sleep in death
Pedro Calderon De La BarcaRead
Tis not where we lie but whence we fell; the loss of Heaven's the greatest pain in Hell.
Interpretation
The quote reflects on the idea that our suffering is defined not by where we currently are, but by the loss of something greater.
In this quote, Calderon suggests that the most profound pain arises not from our present circumstances, but rather from recalling what has been lost. The notion of 'Heaven' symbolizes an ideal state of being or happiness that, when lost, creates a sense of despair that can feel akin to being in 'Hell'. This contrasts present suffering with a nostalgic yearning for a better past, emphasizing the depth of loss over current hardship.
In practice
This quote would be apt to share in a discussion about grief during a memorial service.
And yet, and yet, in these our ghostly lives, Half night, half day, half sleeping, half awake, How if our waking life, like that of sleep, Be all a dream in that eternal life To which we wake not till we sleep in death
What is life? A madness. What is life? An illusion, a shadow, a story. And the greatest good is little enough: for all life is a dream, and dreams themselves are only dreams.
But whether it be dream or truth, to do well is what matters. If it be truth, for truth's sake. If not, then to gain friends for the time when we awaken.
Green is the prime color of the world, and that from which its loveliness arises.
In this treacherous world Nothing is the truth nor a lie. Everything depends on the color Of the crystal through which one sees it
The more lucidly we think, the more we are cut off: the more deeply we enter into reality, the less we can think.
Are not there little chapters in everybody's life, that seem to be nothing, and yet affect all the rest of the history?
Never forget that a man is made great and perfect as much by his faults as by his virtues. So we must not seek to rob a nation of its character, even if it could be proved that the character was all faults.
In retrospect, all these exercises in self-gratification seem pure fantasy, what Pascal called, licking the earth.
It's a curse - this not wanting to look on naked realities. Until the war, life was never more real to me than a shadow show on a curtain. And I preferred it so. I do not like the outlines of things to be too sharp. I like them gently blurred, a little hazy.
Because no man can ever feel his own identity aright except his eyes be closed; as if darkness were indeed the proper element of our essences, though light be more congenial to our clayey part.
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