The ear disapproves but tolerates certain musical pieces; transfer them into the domain of our nose, and we will be forced to flee.
Jean CocteauRead
Since the day of my birth, my death began its walk. It is walking toward me, without hurrying.
Interpretation
Life is a journey towards death, and it is inevitable and unhurried.
This quote by Jean Cocteau reflects the inevitability of death as a part of life. From the moment we are born, our mortality is set in motion, and while it may seem distant, it is constantly approaching us at its own pace, encouraging reflection on the nature of existence and the value of each moment we have.
In practice
In a speech about the importance of living life to the fullest.
The ear disapproves but tolerates certain musical pieces; transfer them into the domain of our nose, and we will be forced to flee.
One must be a living man and a posthumous artist.
All good music resembles something. Good music stirs by its mysterious resemblance to the objects and feelings which motivated it.
Nothing ever gets anywhere. The earth keeps turning round and gets nowhere. The moment is the only thing that counts.
Listen carefully to first criticisms made of your work. Note just what it is about your work that critics don't like - then cultivate it. That's the only part of your work that's individual and worth keeping.
Watch yourself all your life in a mirror and you'll see Death at work like bees in a glass hive.
The goal and target of our life is He, the Christ who awaits us -- each one singly and altogether -- to lead us across the boundaries of time to the eternal embrace of the God who loves us.
To kill time is not murder, it's suicide.
Never forget that a man is made great and perfect as much by his faults as by his virtues. So we must not seek to rob a nation of its character, even if it could be proved that the character was all faults.
There's always something suspect about an intellectual on the winning side.
It is not suffering as such that is most deeply feared but suffering that degrades.
America is the noisiest country that ever existed. One is waked up in the morning, not by the singing of the nightingale, but by the steam whistle.
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