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Every spring I hear the thrush singing in the glowing woods he is only passing through. His voice is deep, then he lifts it until it seems to fall from the sky. I am thrilled. I am grateful. Then, by the end of morning, he's gone, nothing but silence out of the tree where he rested for a night. And this I find acceptable. Not enough is a poor life. But too much is, well, too much. Imagine Verdi or Mahler every day, all day. It would exhaust anyone.
Mary Oliver
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Interpretation

What this quote means

This quote reflects on the transient beauty of life and the balance between appreciation and excess.

In this quote, Mary Oliver expresses her admiration for the fleeting moments of beauty in nature, as exemplified by the thrush singing in the woods during spring. She conveys a sense of gratitude for these experiences, acknowledging their temporary nature, and suggests that an abundance of beauty can become overwhelming, highlighting the importance of moderation in our appreciation of life's gifts.

Themes

NatureTransienceBeautyAppreciationModeration

In practice

Example use cases

During a speech about the importance of mindfulness and appreciating life's small moments.

More from Mary Oliver

I try to be good but sometimes a person just has to break out and act like the wild and springy thing one used to be. It's impossible not to remember wild an want it back.
Mary OliverRead
At the time I was growing up, literature was involved with the so-called confessional poets. And I was not interested in that. I did not think that specific and personal perspective functioned well for the reader at all.
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I know the sag of the unfinished poem. And I know the release of the poem that is finished.
Mary OliverRead
For poems are not words, after all, but fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost, something as necessary as bread in the pockets of the hungry.
Mary OliverRead
If I have any lasting worth, it will be because I have tried to make people remember what the Earth is meant to look like.
Mary OliverRead
Every day I see or hear something that more or less kills me with delight, that leaves me like a needle in the haystack of light.
Mary OliverRead

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