As for me, I would rather be a worm in a wild apple than a son of man. But we are what we are, and we might remember not to hate any person, for all are vicious; And not to be astonished at any evil, all are deserved; And not to fear death; it is the only way to be cleansed.
Interpretation
The quote reflects on the nature of existence and the acceptance of human flaws and mortality.
Robinson Jeffers articulates a preference for a humble existence, suggesting that even the lowliest creatures, like a worm in an apple, possess a more authentic life than a son of man burdened by societal expectations. He urges us to embrace our humanity, acknowledging that everyone has their flaws and that evil exists within us all, while also confronting the inevitability of death as a means of purification.
In practice
This quote can be shared in discussions about the human condition in philosophy classes.
Nature knows that people are a tide that swells and in time will ebb, and all their works dissolve ... As for us: We must uncenter our minds from ourselves. We must unhumanize our views a little and become confident as the rock and ocean that we are made from.
Does it matter whether you hate yourself? At least love your eyes that can see, your mind that can hear the music, the thunder of the wings.
Poetry is not a civilizer, rather the reverse, for great poetry appeals to the most primitive instincts.
I've changed my ways a little, I cannot now Run with you in the evenings along the shore, Except in a kind of dream, and you, if you dream a moment, You see me there.
You making haste on decay: not blameworthy; life is good, be it stubbornly long or suddenly A mortal splendor: meteors are not needed less than mountains: shine, perishing republic.
Death's a fierce meadowlark: but to die having made / Something more equal to the centuries / Than muscle and bone, is mostly to shed weakness.
It is a rude feeling, because it is natural only to people standing on the lowest level of morality, and expecting from other nations such outrages as they themselves are ready to inflict.
Nothing weighs on us so heavily as a secret.
Was it for this the clay grew tall?
Thus let me live, unseen, unknown, Thus unlamented let me die, Steal from the world, and not a stone Tell where I lie.
Man perfected by society is the best of all animals; he is the most terrible of all when he lives without law, and without justice.
As I grow older and older, _x000D_ _x000D_ And totter toward the tomb, _x000D_ _x000D_ I find that I care less and less _x000D_ _x000D_ Who goes to bed with whom.
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