And enough for me that when my hand touched your shoulder, you leaned on me; and when you felt me slip away, you called my name.
Orson Scott CardRead
Order and disorder', said the speaker, 'they each have their beauty.
Interpretation
Both order and disorder possess their own unique forms of beauty.
This quote suggests that there is value and aesthetic appeal in both structured, orderly situations and chaotic, disordered environments. It invites us to appreciate the complexity of life, recognizing that beauty can arise from both harmony and chaos, and challenges us to find meaning in both states.
In practice
Using this quote in a presentation about the balance of creativity and structure in art.
And enough for me that when my hand touched your shoulder, you leaned on me; and when you felt me slip away, you called my name.
The world is always a democracy in times of flux, and the man with the best voice will win.
Never mind that the story had turned out to be lies and foolishness—there was always folks stupid enough to say, Where there's smoke there's fire, when the saying should have been, Where there's scandalous lies there's always malicious believers and spreaders-around, regardless of evidence.
The lives of all people flow through time, and, regardless of how brutal one moment may be, how filled with grief or pain or fear, time flows through all lives equally.
You take a step, then another. That's the journey. But to take a step with your eyes open is not a journey at all, it's a remaking of your own mind.
I've had your tears with mine, and you've had mine with yours. I think that's more intimate even than a kiss.
CEMETERY, n. An isolated suburban spot where mourners match lies, poets write at a target and stone-cutters spell for a wager.
The world is not imperfect or slowly evolving along a long path to perfection. No, it is perfect at every moment; every sin already carries grace within it, all small children are potential old men, all sucklings have death within them, all dying people — eternal life.
People are always blaming their circumstances for what they are. I don't believe in circumstances.
A monk is a man who considers himself one with all men because he seems constantly to see himself in every man.
When people are deeply affected by the Word, they tell it to other people.
If it were true what in the end would be gained? Nothing but another truth. Is this such a mighty advantage? We have enough old truths still to digest, and even these we would be quite unable to endure if we did not sometimes flavor them with lies.
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