The ear disapproves but tolerates certain musical pieces; transfer them into the domain of our nose, and we will be forced to flee.
Jean CocteauRead
Whatever the public blames you for, cultivate it; it is yourself.
Interpretation
Embrace the traits or qualities that others criticize in you, as they are part of your identity.
This quote by Jean Cocteau suggests that the aspects of ourselves that gain public criticism are often our true selves, and instead of shying away from them, we should cultivate and accept those traits. It emphasizes self-acceptance and the idea that what the world perceives as flaws may be intrinsic parts of our identity that deserve nurturing rather than rejection.
In practice
In a motivational speech about self-confidence, one could say, 'Remember, whatever the public blames you for, cultivate it; it is yourself.'
The ear disapproves but tolerates certain musical pieces; transfer them into the domain of our nose, and we will be forced to flee.
One must be a living man and a posthumous artist.
All good music resembles something. Good music stirs by its mysterious resemblance to the objects and feelings which motivated it.
Nothing ever gets anywhere. The earth keeps turning round and gets nowhere. The moment is the only thing that counts.
Listen carefully to first criticisms made of your work. Note just what it is about your work that critics don't like - then cultivate it. That's the only part of your work that's individual and worth keeping.
Watch yourself all your life in a mirror and you'll see Death at work like bees in a glass hive.
In fact, if law were restricted to protecting all persons, all liberties, and all properties; if law were nothing more than the organized combination of the individual's right to self-defense; if law were the obstacle, the check, the punisher of all oppression and plunder - is it likely that we citizens would then argue much about the extent of the franchise?
Reason is the life of the law; nay, the common law itself is nothing else but reason - the law which is perfection of reason.
If I were a younger man, I would write a history of human stupidity; and I would climb to the top of Mount McCabe and lie down on my back with my history for a pillow; and I would take from the ground some of the blue-white poison that makes statues of men; and I would make a statue of myself, lying on my back, grinning horribly, and thumbing my nose at You Know Who.
I am alone in possessing a key to this barbarous sideshow.
When God is our Holy Father, sovereignty, holiness, omniscience, and immutability do not terrify us; they leave us full of awe and gratitude. Sovereignty is only tyrannical if it is unbounded by goodness; holiness is only terrifying if it is untempered by grace; omniscience is only taunting if it is unaccompanied by mercy; and immutability is only torturous if there is no guarantee of goodwill.
Human material existence is limited by ideas, not stuff, people don't need copper wires they need ways to communicate, oil was a contaminant, then it became a fuel
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