NOT, I’ll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee; Not untwist—slack they may be—these last strands of man In me ór, most weary, cry I can no more. I can; Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be.
Gerard Manley HopkinsRead
What is all this juice and all this joy?_x000D_ _x000D_ A strain of the earth's sweet being in the beginning_x000D_ _x000D_ In Eden garden.-Have, get, before it cloy,_x000D_ _x000D_ Before it cloud, Christ, lord, and sour with sinning,_x000D_ _x000D_ Innocent mind and Mayday in girl and boy,_x000D_ _x000D_ Most, O maid's child, thy choice and worthy the winning.
Interpretation
What this quote means
This quote reflects on the beauty and purity of existence and the fleeting nature of joy.
Gerard Manley Hopkins' quote contemplates the essence of joy and the natural world's sweetness, urging one to cherish these moments before they are overshadowed by the trials of life. It emphasizes the innocence of youth and the importance of making choices that honor that purity, suggesting that we should appreciate our existence and the simple joys found in nature and relationships before they are tainted by the complexities of life.
Themes
JoyInnocenceNatureExistenceChoices
In practice
Example use cases
This quote can be used in a speech about the importance of appreciating life's simple pleasures.
More from Gerard Manley Hopkins
All quotes →And for all this, nature is never spent; There lives the dearest freshness deep down things; And though the last lights off the black West went Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs— Because the Holy Ghost over the bent World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.
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Look at the stars! Look, look up at the skies! Oh look at all the fire-folk sitting in the air! The bright boroughs, the circle-citadels there!
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Let Him easter in us, be a dayspring to the dimness of us, be a crimson-cresseted east.
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Birds buildbut not I build; no, but strain, Time's eunuch, and not breed one work that wakes. Mine,O thou lord of life, send my roots rain.
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Nothing is so beautiful as spring - when weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush; Thrush's eggs look little low heavens, and thrush through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring the ear, it strikes like lightning to hear him sing.
Gerard Manley HopkinsRead
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