Real magic can never be made by offering someone else's liver. You must tear out your own, and not expect to get it back.
Peter S. BeagleRead
...because in a way it happened to someone else. I don't really speak that person's language anymore, and when I think about her, she embarrasses me sometimes, but I don't want to forget her, I don't want to pretend she never existed. So before I start forgetting, I have to get down exactly who she was, and exactly how she felt about everything. She was me a lot longer than I've been me so far.
Interpretation
The quote reflects on the struggle of identity and memory, emphasizing the importance of recognizing and understanding one's past self.
In this quote, Peter S. Beagle explores the complexity of self-identity and the often painful process of remembering who we once were. It highlights a tension between our current self and our past selves, acknowledging that while we may feel disconnected from our previous identity, it is crucial to honor and understand that part of ourselves to fully appreciate our personal journey.
In practice
In a personal growth workshop, to illustrate the importance of acknowledging past experiences.
Real magic can never be made by offering someone else's liver. You must tear out your own, and not expect to get it back.
Your name is a golden bell hung in my heart. I would break my body to pieces to call you once by your name.
You were the one who taught me," he said. "I never looked at you without seeing the sweetness of the way the world goes together, or without sorrow for its spoiling. I became a hero to serve you, and all that is like you.
Whatever can die is beautiful — more beautiful than a unicorn, who lives forever, and who is the most beautiful creature in the world. Do you understand me?
I feel a whole country growing inside me, thousands of years, millions of people, stupid, crazy, shrewd people, and all of them me. I never felt like that before, I never felt that there was anything inside me, even myself.
Great heroes need great sorrows and burdens, or half their greatness goes unnoticed. It is all part of the fairy tale.
I have long since passed that period when I felt personal discomfort at the sight of an ill-dressed or illiterate Negro. Social awareness has taught me where to lay the blame.
People haunted by the purposelessness of their lives try to find a new content not only by dedicating themselves to a holy cause but also by nursing a fanatical grievance. A mass movement offers them unlimited opportunities for both.
Nothing can tend so much to humble us before the mercy and justice of God as the consideration of His benefits and our own sins. Let us, then, consider what He has done for us, and what we have done against Him; let us call to mind our sins in detail, and His gracious benefits in like manner, remembering that whatever there is of good in us is not ours, but His, and then we need not be afraid of vainglory or of taking complacency in ourselves.
It's tragic how few people ever 'possess their souls' before they die. 'Nothing is more rare in any man', says Emerson, 'than an act of his own.' It is quite true. Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinions, their life is a mimicry, their passions a quotation.
I was becoming post-ideological.
Dead men are not friends to living men, and give them no gifts. (Ghan-buri-Ghan, of allies during war)
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