American politics is a struggle, not of men but of forces. The men become every year more and more creatures of force, massed about central power houses.
Henry AdamsRead
Simplicity is the most deceitful mistress that ever betrayed man.
Interpretation
Simplicity can often appear alluring, yet it can also lead to misunderstandings and complexities beneath the surface.
Henry Adams warns that simplicity may seem appealing and straightforward, but it can be misleading and deceptive. People often fall into the trap of underestimating the complexities that lie beneath seemingly simple things, leading to unforeseen consequences and betrayals.
In practice
In a discussion about design, one might reference this quote to highlight the pitfalls of oversimplifying a concept.
American politics is a struggle, not of men but of forces. The men become every year more and more creatures of force, massed about central power houses.
Of all studies, the one he would rather have avoided was that of his own mind. He knew no tragedy so heartrending as introspection.
Church and State, Soul and Body, God and Man, are all one at Mont Saint Michel, and the business of all is to fight, each in his own way, or to stand guard for each other.
The American President resembles the commander of a ship at sea. He must have a helm to grasp, a course to steer, a port to seek.
The effect of power and publicity on all men is the aggravation of self, a sort of tumor that ends by killing the victim's sympathies.
Man is an imperceptible atom always trying to become one with God.
I think that God, in creating man, somewhat overestimated his ability.
It is just dawn, daylight: that gray and lonely suspension filled with the peaceful and tentative waking of birds. The air, inbreathed, is like spring water. He breathes deep and slow, feeling with each breath himself diffuse in the natural grayness, becoming one with loneliness and quiet that has never known fury or despair. "That was all I wanted," he thinks, in a quiet and slow amazement. "That was all, for thirty years. That didn't seem to be a whole lot to ask in thirty years.
He comes into the world God knows how, walks on the water, gets out of his grave and goes up off the Hill of Howth. What drivel is this?
There is no shortcut to holiness; it must be the business of our whole lives.
I'd quite like to be in Caligula's court - living in the back room somewhere and just being able to observe.
We live in an age of reproduction. Most of what makes up our personal picture of the world we have never seen with our own eyes--or rather, we've seen it with our own eyes, but not on the spot: our knowledge comes to us from a distance, we are televiewers, telehearers, teleknowers.
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