It may well be that the poet’s sorrow must be measured by the bushel, whereas that of the layman is not even great enough to be measured in pints. Perhaps, now I come to think about it, it is that since the poet is given to worrying more than the ordinary man, his senses have become much more acutely tuned. It is true that at times he experiences the most exquisite joy, but he also has far more than his fair share of immeasurable grief. Because of this, one should consider carefully before deciding to become a poet.
For the poet is a light and winged and holy thing, and there is no invention in him until he has been inspired and is out of his senses, and reason is no longer in him.
To ensure a level playing field in political debates, candidates are stripped of any personality that they may have before the debate begins.
Conventionality is not morality
truth is truth though it be a lie.
One of my friends recently advised me that it’s time to get over C and move on with my life. I don’t agree, but I appreciate where she’s coming from. I think she doesn’t want me to spend all my life waiting for something that will never happen. But it led me to the following quotation from Hermann Hesse:
One must continue to go forward if one wants to fathom the world. And you have already had what is best and finest from the girl with the brown eyes, and the farther you are from her the better and finer it will be
My homeland has been on my mind recently, so this seemed apposite:
By the cold lamp of an inn, alone and sleepless,
Why does this traveler’s heart feel sad?
Tonight my native land beckons me from a thousand miles away;
Tomorrow my frosty temples will start to age another year.