As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, / I must not look to have; but, in their stead, / Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, / Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not" (5.3.25-28).
William ShakespeareRead
But shall we wear these glories for a day? Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?
Interpretation
The quote questions the transient nature of glory and whether it can bring lasting joy.
In this quote, Shakespeare prompts us to ponder the temporary nature of achievements and societal recognition ('glories'). He suggests that while such accolades may provide momentary joy, it is more significant to consider whether they can endure over time, allowing us to continue to find happiness and fulfillment in them. This reflection on the fleeting nature of glory raises deeper philosophical questions about the value of our pursuits and the memories they leave behind.
In practice
This quote can be cited in a graduation speech to emphasize the importance of lasting achievements.
As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, / I must not look to have; but, in their stead, / Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, / Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not" (5.3.25-28).
Love bears it out even to the edge of doom.
Good company, good wine, good welcome, can make good people.
Absence doth sharpen love, presence strengthens it; the one brings fuel, the other blows it till it burns clear.
Lord, Lord, how this world is given to lying!
Give it an understanding, but no tongue.
In real life the people who are most bigoted are the people who have no convictions at all.
Human kind cannot bear much reality.
Catastrophes come when some dominant institution, swollen like a soap-bubble and still standing without foundations, suddenly crumbles at the touch of what may seem a word or idea, but is really some stronger material source.
The ear tends to be lazy, craves the familiar and is shocked by the unexpected; the eye, on the other hand, tends to be impatient, craves the novel and is bored by repetition.
You never step in the same river of thought twice, because neither you nor it are the same.
Yet I also suspected that what I was seeing was but a part of the truth and perhaps not even the most important part; beneath these faces, these clothes, accents, rudenesses, was power and sorrow, both unadmitted, unrealized, the power of inventors, the sorrow of the disconnected.
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