Never underestimate the human capacity for wishful thinking and willful blindness,' said Miles. Such as a whole society of people who became so wrapped up in avoiding death, they forgot to be alive?
Interpretation
This quote highlights the danger of ignoring reality in favor of hopeful illusion, which can lead to a life unfulfilled.
Lois McMaster Bujold's quote suggests that a pervasive tendency in human nature is to engage in wishful thinking and willful blindness, especially when confronting difficult truths like mortality. This mindset can result in individuals or even entire societies becoming so preoccupied with evading the concept of death that they overlook the importance of truly living, ultimately leading to a life lacking in meaningful experiences and authentic engagement with the present.
In practice
In a discussion about the importance of mindfulness, this quote can remind others to appreciate life rather than fear death.
Any communitys arm of force - military, police, security - needs people in it who can do necessary evil, and yet not be made evil by it. To do only the necessary and no more. To constantly question the assumptions, to stop the slide into atrocity.
Adulthood isn't an award they'll give you for being a good child. You can waste years, trying to get someone to give that respect to you, as though it were a sort of promotion or raise in pay. If only you do enough, if only you are good enough. No. You have to just take it. Give it to yourself, I suppose. Say, I'm sorry you feel like that and walk away. But that's hard
Any man can be kind when he is comfortable. I'd always thought kindness a trivial virtue, therefore. But when we were hungry, thirsty, sick, frightened, with our deaths shouting at us, in the heart of horror, you were still as unfailingly courteous as a gentleman at ease before his own hearth.
It was never what I wanted to buy that held my heart's hope. It was what I wanted to be.
His outflung hands traced over the threads of his rug, passed loop by loop through some patient woman's hands. Or maybe she hadn't been patient. Maybe she'd been tired, or irritated, or distracted, or hungry, or angry. Maybe she had been dying. But her hands had kept moving, all the same.
The real unforgivable acts are committed by calm men in beautiful green silk rooms, who deal death wholesale, by the shipload, without lust, without anger, or desire, or any redeeming emotion to excuse them but cold fear of some pretended future. But the crimes they hope to prevent in that future are imaginary. The ones they commit in the present - they are real.
We are all mediators, translators.
Our society strives to avoid any possibility of offending anyone - except God.
Logic is not a body of doctrine, but a mirror-image of the world. Logic is transcendental.
Every beginning is only a sequel, after all, and the book of events is always open halfway through.
The work of an intellectual is not to mould the political will of others; it is, through the analyses that he does in his own field, to re-examine evidence and assumptions, to shake up habitual ways of working and thinking, to dissipate conventional familiarities, to re-evaluate rules and institutions and to participate in the formation of a political will (where he has his role as citizen to play).
Life, it turns out, is infinitely more clever and adaptable than anyone had ever supposed.
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