Anger, if not restrained, is frequently more hurtful to us than the injury that provokes it.
Seneca The YoungerRead
It’s in the very trickery that it pleases me. But show me how the trick is done, and I have lost my interest therein.
Interpretation
The allure of something often lies in its mystery, and understanding it can diminish its appeal.
This quote by Seneca highlights the idea that the enjoyment of a phenomenon often stems from its complexity and mystery. When the inner workings or secrets behind something are revealed, the intrigue may fade, rendering it less enjoyable or engaging. It speaks to the human tendency to be fascinated by the unknown and the artistry involved in trickery or illusion.
In practice
During a lecture on the importance of mystery in art, one might invoke this quote to emphasize the value of not fully revealing artistic techniques.
Anger, if not restrained, is frequently more hurtful to us than the injury that provokes it.
No tree becomes rooted and sturdy unless many a wind assails it. For by its very tossing it tightens its grip and plants its roots more securely; the fragile trees are those that have grown in a sunny valley.
Slavery takes hold of few, but many take hold of slavery.
To be able to endure odium is the first art to be learned by those who aspire to power.
Wherever there is a human being, there is an opportunity for a kindness.
Loyalty is the holiest good in the human heart.
Facts as facts do not always create a spirit of reality, because reality is a spirit.
Study is to study what cannot be studied. Undertaking means undertaking what cannot be undertaken. Philosophizing is to philosophize about what cannot be philosophized about. Knowing that knowing is unknowable is true perfection.
It is no worse, because I write of it. It would be no better, if I stopped my most unwilling hand. Nothing can undo it; nothing can make it otherwise than as it was.
In the Halls of Justice the only justice is in the halls.
The best that we can do is to be kindly and helpful toward our friends and fellow passengers who are clinging to the same speck of dirt while we are drifting side by side to our common doom.
What's this war in the heart of Nature? Why does Nature vie with itself? The Land contend with the Sea? Is there an avenging power in Nature? Not one power, but two?
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