American politics is a struggle, not of men but of forces. The men become every year more and more creatures of force, massed about central power houses.
Henry AdamsRead
The Indian Summer of life should be a little sunny and a little sad, like the season, and infinite in wealth and depth of tone, but never hustled.
Interpretation
Life has its beautiful moments mixed with sadness, and it's essential to appreciate both.
Henry Adams reflects on the later stages of life, likening them to an Indian summer, characterized by a bittersweet beauty. He suggests that while life should be rich and deep in experiences, it should be enjoyed leisurely, without the rush that often accompanies youth.
In practice
This quote can be used in a speech about the beauty of aging and the richness of life experiences.
American politics is a struggle, not of men but of forces. The men become every year more and more creatures of force, massed about central power houses.
Of all studies, the one he would rather have avoided was that of his own mind. He knew no tragedy so heartrending as introspection.
Simplicity is the most deceitful mistress that ever betrayed man.
Church and State, Soul and Body, God and Man, are all one at Mont Saint Michel, and the business of all is to fight, each in his own way, or to stand guard for each other.
The American President resembles the commander of a ship at sea. He must have a helm to grasp, a course to steer, a port to seek.
The effect of power and publicity on all men is the aggravation of self, a sort of tumor that ends by killing the victim's sympathies.
That's not a thing any of us are granted. To go back. Wipe away what later doesn't suit us and make it the way we wish it. You just go on
How many on their deathbeds wished they'd spent more time at the office - or watching TV? The answer is, No one.
You create a world away from home and make new rooms for yourself. But when you arrive back home in your old rooms, the world you've made for yourself ceases to be real. Everything seems to crumble. Anyone who's been sent away to boarding school can understand that.
Yes, I am sad, sad as a circus-lioness, sad as an eagle without wings, sad as a violin with only one string and that one broken, sad as a woman who is growing old. Sad, sad, sad.
So that's what I'm here to become. And suddenly, this word fills me with a brand of sadness I haven't felt since childhood. The kind of sadness you feel at the end of summer. When the fireflies are gone, the ponds have dried up and the plants are wilted, weary from being so green.
Misery won't touch you gentle. It always leaves its thumbprints on you; sometimes it leaves them for others to see, sometimes for nobody but you to know of.
Subscribe for the occasional hand-picked quote. No noise.