Who made the world I cannot tell; 'Tis made, and here am I in hell. My hand, though now my knuckles bleed, I never soiled with such a deed.
A. E. HousmanRead
There, by the starlit fences The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs.
Interpretation
The quote reflects a moment of introspection and connection with nature as one pauses to listen to their inner feelings.
In this quote, A. E. Housman describes a tranquil scene where a wanderer stops to reflect on their inner thoughts and emotions, symbolized by the soothing sounds of nature surrounding them. The imagery of 'starlit fences' and 'glimmering weirs' evokes a sense of peace and beauty, suggesting that nature has the power to draw out deep feelings and contemplation from within the soul.
In practice
This quote can be used in a nature-themed meditation retreat to promote mindfulness.
Who made the world I cannot tell; 'Tis made, and here am I in hell. My hand, though now my knuckles bleed, I never soiled with such a deed.
I am not a pessimist but a pejorist (as George Eliot said she was not an optimist but a meliorist); and that philosophy is founded on my observation of the world, not on anything so trivial and irrelevant as personal history.
Lovers lying two and two Ask not whom they sleep beside, And the bridegroom all night through Never turns him to the bride.
And malt does more than Milton can to justify God's ways to man.
Oh, 'tis jesting, dancing, drinking_x000D_ _x000D_ Spins the heavy world around.
Wanderers eastward, wanderers west, Know you why you cannot rest? 'Tis that every mother's son Travails with a skeleton. Lie down in the bed of dust; Bear the fruit that bear you must; Bring the eternal seed to light, And morn is all the same as night.
Nothing is more consonant with Nature than that she puts into operation in the smallest detail that which she intends as a whole.
Animals are our younger brothers and sisters, also on the ladder of evolution but a few rungs lower. It is an important part of our responsibilities to help them in their ascent, and not to retard their development by cruel exploitation of their helplessness.
It's a moral question about whether we have the right to exterminate species.
Tis a morning pure and sweet, And a dewy splendour falls On the little flower that clings To the turrets and the walls; 'Tis a morning pure and sweet, And the light and shadow fleet; She is walking in the meadow, And the woodland echo rings; In a moment we shall meet; She is singing in the meadow, And the rivulet at her feet Ripples on in light and shadow To the ballad that she sings.
Hurricane season brings a humbling reminder that, despite our technologies, most of nature remains unpredictable.
The evergreen! How beautiful, how welcome, how wonderful the evergreen! When one thinks of it, how astonishing a variety of nature! In some countries we know that the tree that sheds its leaf is the variety, but that does not make it less amazing, that the same soil and the same sun should nurture plants differing in the first rule and law of their existence.
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