Pride is founded not on the sense of happiness, but on the sense of power.
Or have I passed my time in pouring words like water into empty sieves, rolling a stone up a hill and then down again, trying to prove an argument in the teeth of facts, and looking for causes in the dark, and not finding them?
Interpretation
What this quote means
The quote reflects on the futility of efforts that yield no tangible results and the frustration of seeking understanding in the face of overwhelming uncertainty.
In this introspective quote, Hazlitt contemplates the seemingly pointless endeavours of arguing without evidence and seeking answers where none seem to exist. He uses vivid imagery to describe his frustrations, likening his efforts to pouring water into sieves or rolling a stone uphill, emphasizing the cyclical nature of such struggles and the difficulty of extracting meaningful insights from an ambiguous reality.
Themes
In practice
Example use cases
This quote can be used in a discussion about the nature of intellectual pursuits and their outcomes.
More from William Hazlitt
All quotes βThe world loves to be amused by hollow professions, to be deceived by flattering appearances, to live in a state of hallucination; and can forgive everything but the plain, downright, simple, honest truth.
Our repugnance to death increases in proportion to our consciousness of having lived in vain.
We can bear to be deprived of everything but our self-conceit.
There are few things in which we deceive ourselves more than in the esteem we profess to entertain for our firends. It is little better than a piece of quackery. The truth is, we think of them as we please, that is, as they please or displease us.
Prosperity is a great teacher; adversity is a greater. Possession pampers the mind; privation trains and strengthens it.
Similar quotes
If it is true that there is always more than one way of construing a text, it is not true that all interpretations are equal.
Over time, the ghosts of things that happened start to turn distant; once they've cut you a couple of million times, their edges blunt on your scar tissue, they wear thin. The ones that slice like razors forever are the ghosts of things that never got the chance to happen.
To him, who still would gaze upon the glory of the summer sun, there comes, when that sun will from him part, a sullen hopelessness of heart.
At any given moment, public opinion is a chaos of superstition, misinformation, and prejudice.
He was a great patriot, a humanitarian, a loyal friend; provided, of course, he really is dead.
A great nation is any mob of people which produces at least one honest man a century.