I am like a man so busy in letting rooms in one end of his house, that he can't stop to put out the fire that is burning the other.
Abraham LincolnRead
America will never be destroyed from the outside. If we falter and lose our freedoms, it will be because we destroyed ourselves.
Interpretation
The preservation of America depends not on external threats, but on the integrity and actions of its own citizens.
This quote by Abraham Lincoln emphasizes the idea that a nation's greatest threats often come from within rather than from outside forces. Lincoln suggests that the erosion of liberties and freedoms is a result of complacency and actions of the people, not external enemies, serving as a warning for citizens to remain vigilant and uphold their values to preserve their nation.
In practice
During a speech about civic responsibility, this quote can highlight the importance of active citizenship.
I am like a man so busy in letting rooms in one end of his house, that he can't stop to put out the fire that is burning the other.
Sir, my concern is not whether God is on our side; my greatest concern is to be on God's side, for God is always right.
Give me six hours to chop down a tree and I will spend the first four sharpening the axe.
How many legs does a dog have if you call the tail a leg? Four. Calling a tail a leg doesn't make it a leg.
For it has been said, all that a man hath will he give for his life; and while all contribute of their substance the soldier puts his life at stake, and often yields it up in his country's cause. The highest merit, then is due to the soldier.
And having thus chosen our course, without guile, and with pure purpose, let us renew our trust in God, and go forward without fear, and with manly hearts.
We (Muslims) have no right, in our present misery, to boast of past glories. But we must realise that it was the negligence of the Muslims - and not any deficiency in the teachings of Islam - that caused our present decay.
And I saw that the sacred hoop of my people as one of many hoops that made one circle.
The ox suffers, the cart complains.
Only her tight, tight eyes were left. They were always left...They were everything. Everything was there, in them...Thrown, in this way, into the binding conviction that only a miracle could relieve her, she would never know her beauty. She would see only what there was to see: the eyes of other people.
Some burn damp faggots, others may consume The entire combustible world in one small room.
I would like to believe this is a story Iβm telling. I need to believe it. I must believe it. Those who can believe that such stories are only stories have a better chance. If itβs a story Iβm telling, then I have control over the ending. Then there will be an ending, to the story, and real life will come after it. I can pick up where I left off.
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