Spring won't let me stay in this house any longer! I must get out and breathe the air deeply again.
Gustav MahlerRead
Tradition is tending the flame, not worshiping the ashes.
Interpretation
Tradition should be about keeping its spirit alive rather than merely revering what once was.
This quote by Gustav Mahler emphasizes the importance of actively engaging with traditions to maintain their relevance and vitality. Instead of simply honoring past customs or practices as relics, we should embrace and adapt them to keep the 'flame' of their meaning and value alive in our modern lives.
In practice
In a speech about cultural heritage, one might say this quote to inspire the audience to revitalize their traditions.
Spring won't let me stay in this house any longer! I must get out and breathe the air deeply again.
The impressions of the spriritual experiences gave my future life its form and content.
I am thrice homeless, as a native of Bohemia in Austria, as an Austrian among Germans, and as a Jew throughout the world. Everywhere an intruder, never welcomed.
I also had a brother who was like me a musician and a composer. A man of great talent, far more gifted than I. He died very young... he killed himself in the prime of his life.
The point is not to take the world's opinion as a guiding star but to go one's way in life and working unerringly, neither depressed by failure nor seduced by applause.
If you think you're boring your audience, go slower not faster.
It all goes back and back," Tyrion thought, "to our mothers and fathers and theirs before them. We are puppets dancing on the strings of those who came before us, and one day our own children will take up our strings and dance in our steads.
Do you think that God will punish them for not practicing a religion which he did not reveal to them?
But now that I am old, moving every year closer to the end of my life, I also feel closer to the beginning. And I remember everything that happened that day becasue it has happened many times in my life. The same innocence, trust, and restlessness; the wonder, fear, and lonliness. How I lost myself. I remember all these things. And tonight, on the fifteenth day of the eighth moon, I also remember what I asked the Moon Lady so long ago. I wished to be found.
Most of the great books on prayer are written by 'experts' - monks, missionaries, mystics, saints. I've read scores of them, and mainly they make me feel guilty.
God himself does not give answers. He gives himself.
But to ask pity of our body is like discoursing in front of an octopus, for which our words can have no more meaning than the sound of the tides, and with which we should be appalled to find ourselves condemned to live.
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