There, by the starlit fences The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs.
A. E. HousmanRead
The troubles of our proud and angry dust are from eternity, and shall not fail. Bear them we can, and if we can we must. Shoulder the sky, my lad, and drink your ale.
Interpretation
Life's struggles are enduring, and while we can bear them, it's essential to face them head-on.
A. E. Housman's quote reflects on the persistent nature of human troubles, suggesting that they are an inherent part of existence. It emphasizes the idea that despite life's challenges—symbolized by the 'proud and angry dust'—we possess the strength to endure and face our burdens, encouraging an attitude of acceptance and resilience in the face of adversity.
In practice
During a motivational speech to inspire young athletes facing defeat.
There, by the starlit fences The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs.
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.
Losing your way on a journey is unfortunate. But, losing your reason for the journey is a fate more cruel.
It was very different when the masters of science sought immortality and power; such views, although futile, were grand: but now the scene was changed. The ambition of the inquirer seemed to limit itself to the annihilation of those visions on which my interest in science was chiefly founded. I was required to exchange chimeras of boundless grandeur for realities of little worth.
I grew up with the understanding that the world I lived in was one where people enjoyed a sort of freedom to communicate with each other in privacy, without it being monitored, without it being measured or analyzed or sort of judged by these shadowy figures or systems, any time they mention anything that travels across public lines.
Why do we focus so intensely on our problems? What draws us to them? Why are they so attractive? They have the magnet power of love: somehow we desire our problems; we are in love with them much as we want to get rid of them . . . Problems sustain us -- maybe that's why they don't go away. What would a life be without them? Completely tranquilized and loveless . . . There is a secret love hiding in each problem
He tells so many lies that he convinces himself after a while that he's telling the truth. He just doesn't recognize truth or falsehood.
Every day my conscience makes confession relying on the hope of Your mercy as more to be trusted than its own innocence.
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