He will wipe the tears from all faces.' It takes nothing from the loveliness of the verse to say that is exactly what will be required
Marilynne RobinsonRead
A narrow pond would form in the orchard, water clear as air covering grass and black leaves and fallen branches, all around it black leaves and drenched grass and fallen branches, and on it, slight as an image in an eye, sky, clouds, trees, our hovering faces and our cold hands.
Interpretation
This quote illustrates the beauty and tranquility of a natural scene in an orchard, reflecting on the interplay between elements of nature and human presence.
In this vivid description, Marilynne Robinson captures a serene moment in nature where a small pond mirrors the surrounding beauty of the orchard. The imagery of clear water, black leaves, and the reflections of the sky and trees evokes a sense of calm and introspection, inviting the reader to appreciate the delicate balance between the natural world and human existence.
In practice
This quote could be used in a speech about the importance of preserving natural spaces.
He will wipe the tears from all faces.' It takes nothing from the loveliness of the verse to say that is exactly what will be required
It seems to me there is less meanness in atheism, by a good measure. It seems that the spirit of religious self-righteousness this article deplores is precisely the spirit in which it is written. Of course he's right about many things, one of them being the destructive potency of religious self-righteousness. (p. 146)
The moon looks wonderful in this warm evening light, just as a candle flame looks beautiful in the light of morning. Light within light...It seems to me to be a metaphor for the human soul, the singular light within that great general light of existence.
There are worries that seem to me sustained by the love of worry. For example, that people are reading from screens, or listening to recorded books. Why scold the impulse to enjoy language and narrative in whatever form it takes?
Teaching is a distraction and a burden, but it's also an incredible stimulus. And a reprieve, in a way. When you're trying to work on something and it's not going anywhere, you can go to school and there's a two-and-a-half-hour block of time in which you can accomplish something.
Every single one of us is a little civilization built on the ruins of any number of preceding civilizations, but with our own variant notions of what is beautiful and what is acceptable - which, I haste to add, we generally do not satisfy and by which we struggle to live.
Those of us who witness the degraded state of the environment and the suffering that comes with it cannot afford to be complacent. We continue to be restless. If we really carry the burden, we are driven to action. We cannot tire or give up. We owe it to the present and future generations of all species to rise up and walk!
Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson,_x000D_ Yet our full-leaved willows are in the freshest green._x000D_ Such a kindly autumn, so mercifully dealing_x000D_ With the growths of summer, I never yet have seen.
For the sake of our health, our children and grandchildren and even our economic well-being, we must make protecting the planet our top priority.
[...] endless action and reaction. Those beautifully rounded pebbles which you gather on the sand and which you hold in your hand and marvel at their exceeding smoothness, were chiseled into their varies and graceful forms by the ceaseless action of countless waves. Nature is herself a great worker and never tolerates, without certain rebuke, any contradiction to her wise example. Inaction is followed by stagnation. Stagnation is followed by pestilence and pestilence is followed by death.
For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone. They are like lonely persons. Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche.
But the trees seemed to know me. They whispered among themselves and beckoned me nearer.
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