All imperfection is easier to tolerate if served up in small doses.
Wislawa SzymborskaRead
I like being near the top of a mountain. One can't get lost here.
Interpretation
Being at the top of a mountain provides a sense of clarity and perspective, making it hard to feel lost.
This quote by Wislawa Szymborska expresses the tranquility and clarity experienced when one is at a high vantage point, such as the top of a mountain. It symbolizes how elevating oneself, both literally and metaphorically, allows for a clearer view of oneβs surroundings and life, helping to dispel feelings of confusion or being lost.
In practice
In a motivational speech, one might quote Szymborska to inspire people to seek higher perspectives in challenging situations.
All imperfection is easier to tolerate if served up in small doses.
I started earning a living as a poet rather early on.
But they know about us, they know, the four corners, and the chairs nearby us. Discerning shadows also know, and even the table keeps quiet.
I prefer the absurdity of writing poems to the absurdity of not writing poems.
I've reached the age of self-knowledge, so I don't know anything. People who claim that they know something are responsible for most of the fuss in the world.
Every beginning is only a sequel, after all, and the book of events is always open halfway through.
Some days in late August at home are like this, the air thin and eager like this, with something in it sad and nostalgic and familiar.
When we pulled out into the winter night and the real snow, our snow, began to stretch out beside us and twinkle against the windows, and the dim lights of small Wisconsin stations moved by, a sharp wild brace came suddenly into the air. That's my middle-west - not the wheat or the prairies or the lost Swede towns, but the thrilling returning trains of my youth and the street lamps and sleigh bells in the frosty dark and the shadows of holly wreaths thrown by lighted windows on the snow.
Who has seen the wind? Neither you nor I but when the trees bow down their heads, the wind is passing by.
...We're allotted a little space on earth and that we survive in that wilderness that can take back what it has given, as easily as blowing its breath on us or sending the sea to tell us we are not so big. When we forget how close the wilderness is in the night, my grandpa said, someday it will come in and get us, for we will have forgotten how terrible and real it can be.
The feel of a canoe gunnel at the thigh, the splash of flying spray in the face, the rhythm of the snowshoe trail, the beckoning of far-off hills and valleys, the majesty of the tempest, the calm and silent presence of the trees that seem to muse and ponder in their silence; the trust and confidence of small living creatures, the company of simple men; these have been my inspiration and my guide. Without them I am nothing.
It is the sweetest spring within the memory of man. So green, so mild, so beautiful! Ah, what a contrast between nature without and my own soul so torn with doubt and terror!
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