Our business in life is not to succeed, but to continue to fail in good spirits.
I would rather do a good hours work weeding than write two pages of my best; nothing is so interesting as weeding. I went crazy over the outdoor work, and at last had to confine myself to the house, or literature must have gone by the board.
Interpretation
What this quote means
The quote expresses a preference for engaging in physical work over literary creation, highlighting a deep appreciation for the beauty of nature and manual labor.
In this quote, Robert Louis Stevenson emphasizes the joy and satisfaction he finds in outdoor work, specifically weeding, suggesting that he finds it more stimulating and fulfilling than writing. This reflects a broader idea that hands-on experiences and connection with nature can be as rewarding, if not more so, than intellectual or creative pursuits, pointing to the balance between artistic endeavors and physical labor.
Themes
In practice
Example use cases
During a speaking engagement about the importance of connecting with nature, I shared this quote to illustrate the value of hands-on work.
More from Robert Louis Stevenson
All quotes βLike a bird singing in the rain, let grateful memories survive in time of sorrow.
That man is a success who has lived well, laughed often and loved much.
His past was fairly blameless; few men could read the rolls of their life with less apprehension; yet he was humbled to the dust by the many ill things he had done, and raised up again into sober and fearful gratitude by the many he had come so near to doing, yet avoided.
The habit of being happy enables one to be freed, or largely freed, from the domination of outward conditions.
It is the history of our kindnesses that alone make this world tolerable. If it were not for that, for the effect of kind words, kind looks, kind letters . . . I should be inclined to think our life a practical jest in the worst possible spirit.
Similar quotes
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I have the most openness about my art... It's total freedom and willingness to work. I'm willing really to walk on the edge, and if I haven't achieved it, that's where I want to go. But in my life - maybe because my life has been so traumatic, so absurd - there hasn't been one normal, happy thing.
There is only one valuable thing in art: the thing you cannot explain.
A woman drew her long black hair out tight, And fiddled whisper music on those strings, And bats with baby faces in the violet light Whistled, and beat their wings, And crawled head downward down a blackened wall.
An artist worthy of the name should express all the truth of nature, not only the exterior truth, but also, and above all, the inner truth.