And enough for me that when my hand touched your shoulder, you leaned on me; and when you felt me slip away, you called my name.
Orson Scott CardRead
Good people can't out-think evil, cause evil thinks of things good folks can't think of.
Interpretation
Good people struggle to comprehend the complexity of evil behavior and intentions.
This quote from Orson Scott Card highlights the idea that those with good intentions often cannot fathom the depths of malevolence and the cunning strategies that evil people employ. It suggests a fundamental difference in thought processes between good and evil, where the innocence and morality of good people may limit their ability to predict or understand the actions of those who operate without such ethical boundaries.
In practice
In a discussion about ethical dilemmas in a philosophy class.
And enough for me that when my hand touched your shoulder, you leaned on me; and when you felt me slip away, you called my name.
The world is always a democracy in times of flux, and the man with the best voice will win.
Never mind that the story had turned out to be lies and foolishness—there was always folks stupid enough to say, Where there's smoke there's fire, when the saying should have been, Where there's scandalous lies there's always malicious believers and spreaders-around, regardless of evidence.
The lives of all people flow through time, and, regardless of how brutal one moment may be, how filled with grief or pain or fear, time flows through all lives equally.
You take a step, then another. That's the journey. But to take a step with your eyes open is not a journey at all, it's a remaking of your own mind.
I've had your tears with mine, and you've had mine with yours. I think that's more intimate even than a kiss.
When Christians say God has been talking to them about something, it simply means they have a strong inner conviction or feeling that God has made His will known to them.
A person who has been punished is not thereby simply less inclined to behave in a given way; at best, he learns how to avoid punishment.
He sat a long time and he thought about his life and how little of it he could ever have foreseen and he wondered for all his will and all his intent how much of it was his doing.
I lay there silently, hoarding my small dignity. I did not ask about the gate or the closet. I did not question the bedtime ritual where, on the cold bathroom tiles, I was spread out daily and examined for flaws. I did not know that my bones, those solids, those pieces of sculpture would not splinter.
He is dead in this world who has no belief in another.
And thus we all are nighing The truth we fear to know: Death will end our crying For friends that come and go.
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