A cheerful life is what the Muses love,
A soaring spirit is their prime delight.William Wordsworth (1770-1850) English poet
“From the Dark Chambers of Dejection Freed,” ll. 13-14 (1814)
(Source)
A conscience which has been bought once will be bought twice.
Norbert Wiener (1894-1964) American mathematician and philosopher
The Human Use of Human Beings, ch. 7 (1954)
(Source)
A foolish man speaks foolishness.
[Μῶρα γὰρ μῶρος λέγει.]
Euripides (485?-406? BC) Greek tragic dramatist
Bacchæ [Βάκχαι], l. 369 [Tiresias/Τειρεσίας] (405 BC) [tr. Wodhull (1809)]
(Source)
To Cadmus, about his grandson, Pentheus. (Source (Greek)). Alternate translations:
Folly issues from the mouth of fools.
[tr. Buckley (1850)]
Fools still speak folly.
[tr. Milman (1865)]
Fools blurt their folly out.
[tr. Rogers (1872), l. 357]
The words of a fool are folly.
[tr. Coleridge (1891)]
Fools alone speak folly.
[tr. Way (1898)]
Blind words and a blind heart.
[tr. Murray (1902)]
The words of fools finish in folly.
[tr. Arrowsmith (1960)]
He who speaks folly is himself a fool.
[tr. Kirk (1970)]
The things he has said reveal the depth of his folly.
[tr. Vellacott (1973)]
It is a fool who folly speaks.
[tr. Neuburg (1988)]
You can tell a dangerous fool by his own words.
[tr. Cacoyannis (1982)]
For a fool speaks folly.
[tr. Blessington (1993)]
For Pentheus is a fool and says foolish things.
[tr. Esposito (1998)]
He who speaks foolishness is a fool.
[tr. Woodruff (1999)]
The fool speaks foolish things.
[tr. Gibbons/Segal (2000), l. 435]
His talk is folly and he's a fool.
[tr. Kovacs (2002)]
Often a fool speaks foolishly.
[tr. Valerie (2005)]
A man who's mad tends to utter madness.
[tr. Johnston (2008)]
His foolish words will end in folly.
[tr. Robertson (2014)]
A fool says foolish things.
[tr. @sentantiq (2016)]
The speech of the fool is foolish.
[tr. @sentantiq (2018)]
The tongue of a fool makes a foolish noise.
[tr. Behr/Foster (2019)]
For a foolish man says foolish things.
[tr. Buckley/Sens/Nagy (2020)]
Modern wars are seldom fought without hatred between nations; this serves as a more or less substitute for the hatred between individuals. Even when there is no natural hatred and no animosity to start with, the fighting itself will stir up hostile feelings: violence committed on superior orders will stir up the desire for revenge and retaliation against the perpetrator rather than against the powers that ordered the action. It is only human (or animal, if you like), but it is a fact.
[Der Nationalhaß, an dem es auch bei unseren Kriegen selten fehlt, vertritt bei dem einzelnen gegen den einzelnen mehr oder weniger stark die individuelle Feindschaft. Wo aber auch dieser fehlt und anfangs keine Erbitterung war, entzündet sich das feindselige Gefühl an dem Kampfe selbst, denn eine Gewaltsamkeit, die jemand auf höhere Weisung an uns verübt, wird uns zur Vergeltung und Rache gegen ihn entflammen, früher noch, ehe wir es gegen die höhere Gewalt sein werden, die ihm gebietet, so zu handeln. Dies ist menschlich oder auch tierisch, wenn man will, aber es ist so.]
Karl von Clausewitz (1780-1831) Prussian soldier, historian, military theorist
On War [Vom Kriege], Book 2, ch. 2 “On the Theory of War [Über die Theorie des Krieges],” § 17 (2.2.17) (1832) [tr. Howard & Paret (1976)]
(Source)
(Source (German)). Alternate translations:
National hatred, which is seldom wanting in our wars, is a substitute for personal hostility in the breast of individual opposed to individual. But where this also is wanting, and at first no animosity of feeling subsisted, a hostile feeling is kindled by the combat itself; for an act of violence which any one commits upon us by order of his superior, will excite in us a desire to retaliate and be revenged on him, sooner than on the superior power at whose command the act was done. This is human, or animal if we will; still it is so.
[tr. Graham (1873)]
National hatred, which is seldom lacking in our wars, becomes a more or less powerful substitute for personal hostility of individual against individual. But where this also is wanting, and, at first, no animosity existed, a hostile feeling is kindled by the combat itself. An act of violence which anyone commits upon us by order of his superior will excite in us the desire to retaliate and be revenged on him sooner than on the superior power at whose command the act was done. This is human -- animal, if you will -- but it is a fact.
[tr. Jolles (1943)]
Good writing does not succeed or fail on the strength of its ability to persuade. It succeeds or fails on the strength of its ability to engage you, to make you think, to give you a glimpse into someone else’s head — even if in the end you conclude that someone else’s head is not a place you’re really like to be.
A sin takes on new and real terrors when there seems a chance that it is going to be found out. This gives it a fresh and most substantial and important aspect.
Mark Twain (1835-1910) American writer [pseud. of Samuel Clemens]
“The Man That Corrupted Hadleyburg,” ch. 4 (1899)
(Source)
The fact I asked you last night
To come round this evening and dine,
Procillus, would seem to be due
To that fifth or sixth bottle of wine.
To think it entirely arranged
And take notes on the nonsense you hear
Is a hazardous way to behave —
D–n a drinker whose memory’s clear![Hesterna tibi nocte dixeramus,
Quincunces puto post decem peractos,
Cenares hodie, Procille, mecum.
Tu factam tibi rem statim putasti
Et non sobria verba subnotasti
Exemplo nimium periculoso:
Μισῶ μνάμονα συμπόταν, Procille.]Martial (AD c.39-c.103) Spanish Roman poet, satirist, epigrammatist [Marcus Valerius Martialis]
Epigrams [Epigrammata], Book 1, epigram 27 (1.27) [tr. Nixon (1911), “A Alleybi’s the Thing”]
(Source)
"To Procillus." The Greek phrase, attested to elsewhere in Classical literature, reads, as variously translated here, "I dislike a drinking companion who remembers."
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
I had this day carroust the thirteenth cup,
And was both slipper-tong'd, and idle-brain'd,
And said by chance, that you with me should sup.
You thought hereby, a supper cleerely gain'd:
And in your Tables you did quote it up.
Uncivill ghest, that hath been so ill train'd!
Worthy thou are hence supperlesse to walke,
That tak'st advantage of our Table-talke.
[tr. Harington (fl. c. 1600)]
To sup with me, to thee I did propound,
But 'twas when our full cups had oft gone round.
The thing thou straight concludest to be done,
Merry and sober words counting all one.
Th' example's dangerous at the highest rate;
A memorative drunkard all men hate.
[tr. Killigrew (1695)]
Yesternight, it seems, I swore,
Fifty bumpers hardly o'er,
You should sup tonight with me;
Instant you devour'd the glee;
And would bind the words of drink:
Dang'rous precedent, I think.
Wofull partner of the bowl,
Proves a reminiscent soul.
[tr. Elphinston (1782), Book 7, ep. 17]
Last night I had invited you -- after some fifty glasses, I suppose, had been despatched -- to sup with me today. You immediately thought your fortune was made, and took note of my unsober words, with a precedent but too dangerous. I hate a boon companion whose memory is good, Procillus.
[tr. Bohn's Classical (1859)]
Last night I said to you (I think it was after I had got through ten half-pints): "Dine with me today, Procillus." You at once thought the matter settled for you, and took secret note of my unsober remark -- a precedent too dangerous! "I hate a messmate with a memory," Procillus.
[tr. Ker (1919)]
I may have asked you here to dine,
But that was late at night,
And none of us had spared the wine
If I remember right.
You thought the invitation meant,
Though wine obscured my wit!
And -- O most parous precedent --
You made a note of it!
The maxim that in Greece was true
Is true in Rome today --
"I hate a fellow-toper who
Remembers what I say."
[tr. Pott & Wright (1921), "'Tis Wise to Forget"]
After ten cups were put away
I said, "Procillus," yesterday,
"You'll dine with me, my friend, you're wanted."
You promptly took the thing for granted
And made a note without formality
Of my incautious hospitality;
A dangerous precedent to set;
I hate a guest who won't forget.
[tr. Francis & Tatum (1924), #16]
Last night I said, while feeling fine,
Having drunk much too much wine,
That you must promise, when this way,
To stop and dine with me some day.
You made a mental note of it,
A practice which, I must admit --
Taking me at my drunken word! --
Is dangerous and quite absurds.
Barroom promises are fine,
But he who keeps them is a swine!
[tr. Marcellino (1968)]
Last night in my cups,
or my brandy tumbler, at least,
I asked you for dinner today.
But you took me seriously, Procillus,
and noted down carefully the words I spouted
under the influence. A dangerous business.
I don't like to drink with people who remember.
[tr. Bovie (1970)]
Last night, after five pints of wine,
I said, "Procillus, come and dine
Tomorrow." You assumed I meant
What I said (a dangerous precedent)
And slyly jotted down a note
Of my drunk offer. Let me quote
A proverb from the Greek: "I hate
An unforgetful drinking mate."
[tr. Michie (1972)]
Last night when I was carried off with wine
I made you promise to drop by and dine
With me today. Only a fool or a turd
Expects a drunken man to keep his word.
[tr. O'Connell (1991), "Bummer"]
Last night after getting through four pints or so I asked you to dine with me this evening, Procillus. You thought you had the matter settled then and there, and made a mental note of my tipsy words -- a very dangerous precedent. I don't like a boozing partner with a memory, Procillus.
[tr. Shackleton Bailey (1993)]
When drinks I had beyond my number,
I thought I would myself encumber
With a pledge to give you lunch today.
You wrote it down with great display
As if to register disputed votes.
I hate a tippler taking notes.
[tr. Wills (2007)]
Last night, Procillus, after I had drunk
four pints or so, I asked if you would dine
with me today. At once, you thought the matter
was settled, based on statements blurred by wine --
a risky precedent. Good memory
is odious in one who drinks with me.
[tr. McLean (2014)]
Last night I invited you,
after we killed, what, fifty-something cups,
to come and eat some food with me today.
Right then and there you thought the thing was done
and took me at my not-so-sober word.
A very risky thing to do: I hate
a drinking bud whose memory is good.
[tr. Goldman (2022)]
There is, perhaps, no surer mark of folly, than an attempt to correct the natural infirmities of those we love. The finest composition of human nature, as well as the finest china, may have a flaw in it; and this, I am afraid, in either case, is equally incurable; though, nevertheless, the pattern may remain of the highest value.
Henry Fielding (1707-1754) English novelist, dramatist, satirist
The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling, Book 2, ch. 7 (1749)
(Source)
O foolish creatures,
what great ignorance besets you![Oh creature sciocche,
quanta ignoranza è quella che v’offende!]Dante Alighieri (1265-1321) Italian poet
The Divine Comedy [Divina Commedia], Book 1 “Inferno,” Canto 7, l. 70ff (7.70-71) [Virgil] (1320) [tr. Hollander/Hollander (2007)]
(Source)
Virgil lambasting humanity for not understanding the God-ordained role of Fortune. (Source (Italian)). Alternate translations:
O Mortals without sense,
How great's the Ignorance that you possess!
[tr. Rogers (1782)]
O beings blind! what ignorance
Besets you?
[tr. Cary (1814)]
Ah! sottish creature-tribe!
What scandals doth your ignorance beteem!
[tr. Dayman (1843)]
O foolish creatures, how great is this ignorance that falls upon ye!
[tr. Carlyle (1849)]
Oh! foolish creature! to be blind
What ignorance is that attacks your mind?
[tr. Bannerman (1850)]
Oh, creatures weak and blind,
How ye are hinder'd by your ignorance!
[tr. Johnston (1867)]
O creatures imbecile,
What ignorance is this which doth beset you?
[tr. Longfellow (1867)]
O foolish creatures, how great ignorance is that which makes you trip!
[tr. Butler (1885)]
O creatures dull to see,
What ignorance is this that here offends!
[tr. Minchin (1885)]
O creatures foolish, how great is that ignorance that harms you!
[tr. Norton (1892)]
Besotted race, how deep the ignorance that harasseth you!
[tr. Sullivan (1893)]
O ye insipid creatures.
How great the ignorance which doth oppress
you. [tr. Griffith (1908)]
O foolish creatures, what ignorance is this that besets you!
[tr. Sinclair (1939)]
How heavy the ignorance,
O foolish creatures, that on you is laid.
[tr. Binyon (1943)]
Ah, witless world! Behold the grand
Folly of ignorance!
[tr. Sayers (1949)]
O credulous mankind,
is there one error that has wooed and lost you?
[tr. Ciardi (1954)]
O foolish creatures, how great is the ignorance that besets you!
[tr. Singleton (1970)]
Oh foolish race of man,
how overwhelming is your ignorance!
[tr. Musa (1971)]
O unenlightened creatures,
how deep -- the ignorance that hampers you!
[tr. Mandelbaum (1980)]
How foolish people are!
How great is the ignorance which strikes them down!
[tr. Sisson (1981)]
Foolish creatures,
How great an ignorance plagues you.
[tr. Pinsky (1994), ll. 62-63]
O foolish creatures, how great is the ignorance that injures you!
[tr. Durling (1996)]
O, blind creatures, how great is the ignorance that surrounds you!
[tr. Kline (2002)]
You idiotic creatures,
so greatly hurt by your own ignorance!
[tr. Kirkpatrick (2006)]
O men of foolish minds!
How limited you are, how ignorant!
[tr. Raffel (2010)]
Half-witted mortals, how is it you know
So little even of the ignorance
That starves you?
[tr. James (2013), ll. 66-68]
There are no exact directions. There are probably no directions at all. The only things that I am able to recommend at this moment are: a sense of humour; an ability to see the ridiculous and the absurd dimensions of things; an ability to laugh about others as well as about ourselves; a sense of irony; and, of everything that invites parody in this world. In other words: rising above things, or looking at them from a distance; sensibility to the hidden presence of all the more dangerous types of conceit in others, as well as in ourselves; good cheer; an unostentatious certainty of the meaning of things; gratitude for the gift of life and courage to assume responsibility for it; and, a vigilant mind.
Václav Havel (1936-2011) Czech playwright, essayist, dissident, politician
Speech, accepting the “Open Society” Prize, Central European University (24 Jun 1999)
(Source)
For Justice is one; it binds all human society, and is based on one Law, which is right reason applied to command and prohibition. Whoever knows not this Law, whether it has been recorded in writing anywhere or not, is without Justice.
[Est enim unum ius quo deuincta est hominum societas et quod lex constituit una, quae lex est recta ratio imperandi atque prohibendi. Quam qui ignorat, is est iniustus, siue est illa scripta uspiam siue nusquam.]
Marcus Tullius Cicero (106-43 BC) Roman orator, statesman, philosopher
De Legibus [On the Laws], Book 1, ch. 15 (1.15) / sec. 42 [Marcus] (c. 51 BC) [tr. Keyes (1928)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
There can be but one essential justice, which cements society, and one law which establishes this justice. This law is right reason, which is the true rule of all commandments and prohibitions. Whoever neglects this law, whether written or unwritten, is necessarily unjust and wicked.
[tr. Barham (1842)]
For there is but one essential justice which cements society, and one law which establishes this justice. This law is right reason, which is the true rule of all commandments and prohibitions. Whoever neglects this law, whether written or unwritten, is necessarily unjust and wicked.
[tr. Barham/Yonge (1878)]
There is one, single, justice. It binds together human society and has been established by one, single, law. That law is right reason in commanding and forbidding. A man who does not acknowledge this law is unjust, whether it has been written down anywhere or not.
[tr. Rudd (1998)]
There is only one justice, which constitutes the bond among humans, and which was established by the one law, which is right reason in commands and prohibitions. The person who does not know it is unjust, whether the law has been written anywhere or not.
[tr. Zetzel (1999)]
Right is uniform; human fellowship has been bound by it, and one law has established it; that law is correct reason in commanding and prohibiting. He who is ignorant of it is unjust, whether it has been written somewhere or nowhere.
[tr. Fott (2013)]
Today most Americans seem to have forgotten the ancient evils which forced their ancestors to flee to this new country and to form a government stripped of old powers used to oppress them. But the Americans who supported the Revolution and the adoption of our Constitution knew firsthand the dangers of tyrannical governments. They were familiar with the long existing practice of English persecutions of people wholly because of their religious or political beliefs. They knew that many accused of such offenses had stood, helpless to defend themselves, before biased legislators and judges.
Hugo Black (1886-1971) American politician and jurist, US Supreme Court Justice (1937-71)
James Madison lecture, NYU School of Law (17 Feb 1960)
(Source)
The inaugural Madison lecture. Reprinted as "The Bill of Rights," NYU Law Review, Vol. 35 (Apr 1960).
I hasten to laugh at everything, lest I should have to weep at everything.
[Je me presse de rire de tout, de peur d’être obligé d’en pleurer.]
Pierre Beaumarchais (1732-1799) French playwright, polymath [Pierre-Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais]
The Barber of Seville [Le Barbier de Séville], Act 1, sc. 2 [Figaro] (1773) [tr. 1896]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:
I make haste to laugh at everything for fear of being obliged to weep.
[Motto for the London Figaro (1871)]
I am eager to laugh at all for fear of being obliged to weep.
[Source (1887)]
I hasten to laugh at everything for fear that otherwise I might be forced to weep over it.
[tr. Taylor (1922)]
I force myself to laugh at everything for fear of being forced to weep at it.
[tr. Bermel (1960)]
I forced myself to laugh at everything for fear of having to weep.
[tr. Wood (1964)]
I always hasten to laugh at everything for fear that I may be obliged to weep.
[tr. Luciani (1964)]]
I make a point of laughing at everything, for fear of having to cry.
[tr. Anderson (1993)]
I make a point of laughing at life, because otherwise I'm afraid it would make me weep.
[tr. Coward (2003)]
I quickly laugh at everything, for fear of having to cry.
[Bartlett's]
And endless other variations ("I force myself to laugh at everything, for fear of having to cry") in one-off passages.
Sometimes given, in French, as "Je me hâte de me moquer de tout, de peur d'être obligé d'en pleurer."
Compare to Byron (1820).
How each man weaves
his web will bring him to glory or to grief.
King Jupiter is the king to all alike.
The Fates will find the way.[Sua cuique exorsa laborem
fortunamque ferent. Rex Iuppiter omnibus idem.
Fata viam invenient.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 10, l. 111ff (10.111-113) (29-19 BC) [tr. Fagles (2006)]
(Source)
Jupiter, declining to intervene or show favor in the battle between the Trojans and Rutulians. (Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Each to his proper fortune stand or fall;
Equal and unconcern'd I look on all.
[...] The Fates will find their way.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
To each his own enterprise shall procure disaster or success. Sovereign Jove shall be to all the same. The Fates shall take their course.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
Each warrior from his own good lance
Shall reap the fruit of toil or chance:
Jove deals to all an equal lot,
And Fate shall loose or cut the knot.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
To each his enterprise
Will bring its weal or woe. Jove is the same
To all alike. The Fates will find their way.
[tr. Cranch (1872)]
Each as he hath begun shall work out his destiny. Jupiter is one and king over all; the fates will find their way.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
Let each one's way-faring
Bear its own hap and toil, for Jove to all alike is king;
The Fates will find a way to wend.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
Equally I weigh
The chance of all, [...]
For each must toil and try, till Fate the doom declare.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 16, l. 139ff]
But of his own attempt
let each the triumph and the burden bear;
for Jove is over all an equal King.
The Fates will find the way
[tr. Williams (1910)]
Each one's own course shall bring him weal or woe. Jupiter is king over all alike; the fates shall find their way.
[tr. Fairclough (1918)]
In every man’s beginning
His luck resides, for good or ill. I rule
All men alike. The fates will find the way.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
The selfhood of each shall determine
His effort and how it fares. I am king to all, and impartial.
Fate will settle the issue.
[tr. Day-Lewis (1952)]
What each man does will shape his trial and fortune.
For Jupiter is king of all alike;
The Fates will find their way.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971)]
The effort each man makes
Will bring him luck of trouble. To the all
King Jupiter is the same king. And the Fates
Will find their way.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981)]
... [A]s each man has set up his loom, so will he endure the labor and fortune of it. [...] Jupiter is the same king to all men. The Fates will find their way.
[tr. West (1990)]
What each has instigated
shall bring its own suffering and success. Jupiter is king of all,
equally: the fates will determine the way.
[tr. Kline (2002)]
The efforts
Of each will bring suffering or success.
Jupiter rules over all alike. The Fates
Will find their way.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]
There is a separation of colored people from white people in the United States. That separation is not a disease of colored people. It is a disease of white people. I do not intend to be quiet about it.
Albert Einstein (1879-1955) German-American physicist
Speech, Lincoln University, Pennsylvania (3 May 1946)
(Source)
As reported in the the Baltimore Afro-American (11 May 1946). There was essentially no mainstream (white) press coverage of his visit to the Black college, or transcript of his ten minutes of remarks. No copy of his speech or notes has been found.
Sometimes paraphrased, "The separation of races is not a disease of ...."
It always will seem funny to us United Staters that we are about the only ones that really know how to do everything right. I don’t know how a lot of these other Nations have existed as long as they have till we could get some of our people around and show ’em really how to be Pure and Good like us.
Will Rogers (1879-1935) American humorist
“Letter of a Self-Made Diplomat,” Saturday Evening Post (27 Feb 1932)
(Source)
To everything there is a bright side and a dark side; and I hold it to be unwise, unphilosophic, unkind to others, and unhealthy for one’s own soul, to form the habit of looking on the dark side.
Lydia Marie Child (1802-1880) American abolitionist, activist, journalist, suffragist
Letter to Lucy Osgood (1865)
(Source)
Cheer up, the worst is yet to come.
Philander Johnson (1866-1939) American journalist, humorist, lyricist, playwright
“The Colyumist’s Confessional,” Everybody’s Magazine (May 1920)
(Source)
He refers to the phrase as a "rather unfeeling invitation to end a hard-luck story."
Two persons will not be friends long if they are not inclined to pardon each otherʼs little failings.
[L’on ne peut aller loin dans l’amitié, si l’on n’est pas disposé à se pardonner les uns aux autres les petits défauts.]
Jean de La Bruyère (1645-1696) French essayist, moralist
The Characters [Les Caractères], ch. 5 “Of Society and Conversation [De la société et de la conversation],” § 62 (5.62) (1688) [tr. Van Laun (1885)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:
Two persons will not be friends a long time, if they can't forgive each other little failings.
[Bullord ed. (1696)]
Two Persons will not be long Friends, if they can't forgive each other little Failings.
[Curll ed. (1713)]
You will never go far in friendship unless you are ready to forgive each other's petty faults.
[tr. Stewart (1970)]
Conscience is a man’s compass, and though the needle sometimes deviates, though one often perceives irregularities in directing one’s course after it, still one must try to follow its direction.
Let me explain, young man, the two blessings of human life.
Firstly Demeter, Mother Earth — call her what you will —
sustains us mortals with the gift of grain, of solid food.
But he who came next — son of Semele —
matched her gift to man: he brought us wine.
And wine brought peace to the troubled mind,
gave an end to grief, and gave us sleep — blessed sleep —
a forgetting of our sadness.[δύο γάρ, ὦ νεανία,
τὰ πρῶτ᾽ ἐν ἀνθρώποισι: Δημήτηρ θεά —
γῆ δ᾽ ἐστίν, ὄνομα δ᾽ ὁπότερον βούλῃ κάλει:
αὕτη μὲν ἐν ξηροῖσιν ἐκτρέφει βροτούς:
ὃς δ᾽ ἦλθ᾽ ἔπειτ᾽, ἀντίπαλον ὁ Σεμέλης γόνος
βότρυος ὑγρὸν πῶμ᾽ ηὗρε κεἰσηνέγκατο
280θνητοῖς, ὃ παύει τοὺς ταλαιπώρους βροτοὺς
λύπης, ὅταν πλησθῶσιν ἀμπέλου ῥοῆς,
ὕπνον τε λήθην τῶν καθ᾽ ἡμέραν κακῶν
δίδωσιν, οὐδ᾽ ἔστ᾽ ἄλλο φάρμακον πόνων.]Euripides (485?-406? BC) Greek tragic dramatist
Bacchæ [Βάκχαι], l. 274ff [Tiresias/Τειρεσίας] (405 BC) [tr. Robertson (2014)]
(Source)
To Pentheus, discussing Dionysus. (Source (Greek)). Alternate translations:
The two chief rulers of this nether world,
Proud boy, are Ceres, Goddess most benign,
Or Earth, (distinguish her by either name)
Who nourishes mankind with solid food:
Yet hath the son of Semele discover'd,
And introduc'd, the grape's delicious draught,
Which vies with her, which causes every grief
To cease among the wretched tribes of men,
With the enlivening beverage of the vine
Whenever they are fill'd; he also gives
Sleep, sweet oblivion to our daily cares,
Than which no medicine is with greater power
Endued to heal our anguish.
[tr. Wodhull (1809)]
For two things, young man, are first among men: the goddess Demeter -- she is the earth, but call her whatever name you wish; she nourishes mortals with dry food; but he who came afterwards, the offspring of Semele, discovered a match to it, the liquid drink of the grape, and introduced it to mortals. It releases wretched mortals from grief, whenever they are filled with the stream of the vine, and gives them sleep, a means of forgetting their daily troubles, nor is there another cure for hardships.
[tr. Buckley (1850)]
Youth! there are two things
Man's primal need, Demeter, the boon Goddess
(Or rather will ye call her Mother Earth?),
With solid food maintains the race of man.
He, on the other hand, the son of Semele,
Found out the grape's rich juice, and taught us mortals
That which beguiles the miserable of mankind
Of sorrow, when they quaff the vine's rich stream.
Sleep too, and drowsy oblivion of care
He gives, all-healing medicine of our woes.
[tr. Milman (1865)]
Two names, vain youth,
Rank first among mankind : Demeter one,
And Ge the other; give which name thou willest.
She nurtures man, but quenches not his thirst;
The son of Semele has helped this want:
He finds and grants to men the grape’s rich draught;
He takes away the woe of wearied souls,
Filling sad hearts with the vine’s ruddy stream;
And gives them sleep, the cure of daily grief,
The only drug which lightens human ills.
[tr. Rogers (1872), l. 262ff]
Two things there are, young prince, that hold first rank among men, the goddess Demeter, that is, the earth, -- call her which name thou please; she it is that feedeth men with solid food; and as her counterpart came this god, the son of Semele, who discovered the juice of the grape and introduced it to mankind, stilling thereby each grief that mortals suffer from, soon as e’er they are filled with the juice of the vine; and sleep also he giveth, sleep that brings forgetfulness of daily ills, the sovereign charm for all our woe.
[tr. Coleridge (1891)]
Two chiefest Powers,
Prince, among men there are: divine Demeter --
Earth is she, name her by which name thou wilt; --
She upon dry food nurtureth mortal men:
Then followeth Semelê's Son; to match her gift
The cluster's flowing draught he found, and gave
To mortals, which gives rest from grief to men
Woe-worn, soon as the vine's stream filleth them.
And sleep, the oblivion of our daily ills,
He gives -- there is none other balm for toils.
[tr. Way (1898)]
Young Prince, that in man's world are first of worth.
Dêmêtêr one is named; she is the Earth --
Call her which name thou will! -- who feeds man's frame
With sustenance of things dry. And that which came
Her work to perfect, second, is the Power
From Semelê born. He found the liquid shower
Hid in the grape. He rests man's spirit dim
From grieving, when the vine exalteth him.
He giveth sleep to sink the fretful day
In cool forgetting. Is there any way
With man's sore heart, save only to forget?
[tr. Murray (1902)]
Mankind, young man, possesses two supreme blessings.
First of these is the goddess Demeter, or Earth
whichever name you choose to call her by.
It was she who gave to man his nourishment of grain.
But after her there came the son of Semele,
who matched her present by inventing liquid wine
as his gift to man. For filled with that good gift,
suffering mankind forgets its grief; from it
comes sleep; with it oblivion of the troubles
of the day. There is no other medicine
for misery.
[tr. Arrowsmith (1960)]
For there are two things, young man,
that are first among humans: the goddess Demeter
(she is the earth; call her which name you like) --
she nourishes men by way of dry food;
and he who filled the complementary role, Semele's offspring,
discovered the grape-cluster's liquid drink and introduced it
to mortals, that which stops wretched men
from suffering, when they are filled with the stream of the vine,
and gives sleep as oblivion of the evils that happen by day;
nor is there any other cure against distress.
[tr. Kirk (1970)]
There are two powers, young man, which are supreme in human affairs: first, the goddess Demeter, she is the Earth -- call her by what name you will; and she supplies mankind with solid food. Second, Dionysus the son of Semele; the blessing he provides is the counterpart to the blessing of bread; he discovered and bestowed on men the service of drink, the juice that streams from the vine-clusters; men have but to take their fill of wine, and the sufferings of an unhappy race are banished, each day's troubles are forgotten in sleep -- indeed this is our only cure for the weariness of life.
[tr. Vellacott (1973)]
Think of two principles, two supreme
Principles in life. First, the principle
Of earth, Demeter, goddess of sil or what you will.
That nourishes man, yields him grain. Bread. Womb-like
It earths him as it were, anchors his feet.
Second, the opposite, and complementary principle --
Ether, locked in the grape until released by man.
For after Demeter came the son of Semele
And matched her present with the juice of grapes.
Think of it as more than drug for pain
Though it is that.
We wash our souls, our parched
Aching souls in streams of wine and enter
Sleep and oblivion. Filled with this good gift
Mankind forgets its grief.
[tr. Soyinka (1973)]
Two things, my boy,
are primary for men: goddess Demeter
(that’s Earth, call her whichever name you like),
the nourisher of mortals in dry food;
next comes her rival, the child of Semele:
the cluster’s wet drink he found and introduced
to men, that stops poor mortals their distress
when they are filled to flowing with the vine,
giver of sleep, forgetfulness of daily ills,
[tr. Neuburg (1988)]
Young man,
two are the forces most precious to mankind.
The first is Demeter, the Goddess.
She is the Earth -- or any name you wish to call her --
and she sustains humanity with solid food.
Next came the son of the virgin, Dionysus,
bringing the counterpart to bread, wine
and the blessings of life's flowing juices.
His blood, the blood of the grape,
lightens the burden of our mortal misery.
When, after their daily toils, men drink their fill,
sleep comes to them, bringing release form all their troubles.
There is no other cure for sorrow.
[tr. Cacoyannis (1982)]
Two things, young man,
Are first among mankind: Demeter,
She's the Earth -- call her by either name --
Who nourishes mortals with dry food.
The other, who came after, the seed
Of Semele, discovered Demeter's wet rival,
The drink of the grap, brought it to man
To ease pain for suffering mortals,
When they are filled with the flowing vine,
And to give sleep, forgetful of daily life.
There is no other cure for pain.
[tr. Blessington (1993)]
For there are two things, young man,
that are the primary elements among humans. First there’s the goddess Demeter.
She’s the earth But you can call her by whatever name you wish.
She nourishes mortals with dry foods. But he who came afterward,
Semele’s offspring, discovered the wet drink of the grape
as a counter-balance to Demeter’s bread. He introduced it
to mortals to stop their sorrow and pain.
Whenever men are filled with the stream of the grape-vine
they can sleep and forget the evils of the day.
No other medicine alleviates human suffering.
[tr. Esposito (1998)]
Young man, there are two
first principles in human life: the goddess Demeter --
or earth -- you may use what name you like --
who nourishes us by means of the dry element;
and the second one balances her exactly, that’s
Semélê’s child, who discovered, in the wet element,
a drink from grapes, a drink he delivered to us.
This brings relief from pain for long-suffering mortals
when they are filled with the vineyard’s bounty;
it grants sleep, lets them forget the evils of the day,
and there is no other cure for trouble.
[tr. Woodruff (1999)]
Young man -- there are two great first things that we
as mortals have: the goddess of the Earth,
Deméter -- call her by whatever name
You wish -- gave us our solid food, and he
Who came next, Semélê’s child, gave us liquid --
From the grape -- as a counterpart to Deméter's bread.
The god's invention, it give sus poor mortals
Release from pain and sorrow, when we're filled
With what flows from the vine; it gives us sleep,
When we can forget the evils of the day.
Nor for us mortals can another drug
For suffering surpass it.
[tr. Gibbons/Segal (2000), l. 321]
Two things are chief among mortals, young man: the goddess Demeter -- she is Earth but call her either name you like -- nourishes mortals with dry food. But he who came next, the son of Semele, discovered as its counterpart the drink that flows from the grape cluster and introduced it to mortals. It is this that frees trouble-laden mortals from their pain -- when they fill themselves with the juice of the vine -- this that gives sleep to make one forget the day's troubles: there is no other treatment for misery.
[tr. Kovacs (2002)]
There are two things in this world, young prince, that have been gifted to mankind. The first is the goddess Demeter or the earth, if you wish to call her so, or any other name you would give her, who feeds us mortals with solid food. The second is the son of Semele, who brought us the liquid hidden in the grape. This is no small gift, for when else can mortals loose the ties of their grief? It is wine -- that slips away the ragged robes of the day, sinking us into cool forgetting.
[tr. Rao/Wolf (2004)]
There are two things, young man that are most important to people: It is goddess Demetre (call her by whatever other name you want) who feeds the folk on Earth and who IS Earth; and her counterpart, Dionysos, the son of Semele, this god, the god who discovered the juice of the grape and which he brought to us mortals. This liquid holds back the pain of the tortured soul, gives soft sleep to folk and lets them forget their daily suffering. There’s truly no better medicine for pain or fatigue.
[tr. Theodoridis (2005)]
For there are two things, young one, two, that are
first among humans: One is the goddess Demeter --
and she is earth, call her whatever you will --
it is she who nourishes mortals in corn and grain;
but he who comes after, Semele's offspring, he invented them to match
the flowing drink of the grape and introduced it to mortals;
it gives wretched humans pause from pain when-
ever they are filled with the vine's stream,
and sleep, as aids to forget the troubles of the day:
there is no other drug that cures misery.
[tr. Valerie (2005)]
Young man, among human beings two things stand out preeminent, of highest rank. Goddess Demeter is one -- she's the earth (though can call her any name you wish), and she feeds mortal people cereal grains. The other one came later, born of Semele -- he brought with him liquor from the grape, something to match the bread from Demeter. He introduced it among mortal men. When they can drink, up what streams off the vine, unhappy mortals are released from pain. It grants them sleep, allows them to forget their daily troubles. Apart from wine, there is no cure for human hardship.
[tr. Johnston (2008)]
For there are two things, young man, two that are prized above all else by men. The first is the goddess Demeter, for she is the Earth. Call her whichever you prefer. It is she who brings forth solid food from the earth. Dry goods, if you will. But her junior, Semele’s child, showed us the other side of the coin, found the nectar in a bunch of grapes and gave it to mortals, letting them be free of pain when they partake of the river-of-the-vine. He gives us sleep, to forget the evils of the day for a time, and there is no better prescription for pain.
[tr. Pauly (2019)]
But let me tell you there are two powers over us, sometimes called "the dry" and "the wet." The first is personified by the goddess Demeter or Earth -- whichever you wish to call her; she nourishes mortals with dry food, with bread. This new god, Semele's child, has come with a matching gift, a crystalline liquid from clustered grapes which he generously brought to end all human suffering. Wine fills the emptiness in the grieved heart and helps us forget in blissful sleep. Hsi is the only medicine to cure our pain.
[tr. Behr/Foster (2019)]
Two things, young man, have supremacy among humans: The goddess Demeter -- she is the earth, but call her whatever name you wish -- nourishes mortals with dry food. But he who came then, the offspring of Semele, invented a rival, the wet drink of the grape, and introduced it to mortals. It releases wretched mortals from their pains, whenever they are filled with the stream of the vine, and gives them sleep, a means of forgetting their daily woes. There is no other cure for pains [ponoi].
[tr. Buckley/Sens/Nagy (2020)]
Although our intellect always feels itself urged towards clearness and certainty, still our mind often feels itself attracted by uncertainty. Instead of threading its way with the understanding along the narrow path of philosophical investigations and logical conclusions, in order almost unconscious of itself, to arrive in spaces where it feels itself a stranger, and where it seems to part from all well known objects, it prefers to remain with the imagination in the realms of chance and luck.
[Obgleich sich unser Verstand immer zur Klarheit und Gewißheit hingedrängt fühlt, so fühlt sich doch unser Geist oft von der Ungewißheit angezogen. Statt sich mit dem Verstande auf dem engen Pfade philosophischer Untersuchung und logischer Schlußfolgen durchzuwinden, um, seiner selbst sich kaum bewußt, in Räumen anzukommen, wo er sich fremd fühlt, und wo ihn alle bekannten Gegenstände zu verlassen scheinen, weilt er lieber mit der Einbildungskraft im Reiche der Zufälle und des Glücks.]
Karl von Clausewitz (1780-1831) Prussian soldier, historian, military theorist
On War [Vom Kriege], Book 1, ch. 1 “What Is War? [Was ist der Krieg?],” § 22 (1.1.22) (1832) [tr. Graham (1873)]
(Source)
(Source (German)). Alternate translations:
Although our intellect always feels itself urged toward clarity and certainty, our mind still often feels itself attracted by uncertainty. Instead of threading its way with the intellect along the narrow path of philosophical investigation and logical deduction, in order almost unconsciously, to arrive in spaces where it finds itself a stranger and where all familiar objects seem to abandon it, it prefers to linger with imagination in the realms of chance and luck.
[tr. Jolles (1943)]
Although our intellect always longs for clarity and certainty, our nature often finds uncertainty fascinating. It prefers to day-dream in the realms of chance and luck rather than accompany the intellect on its narrow and tortuous path of philosophical enquiry and logical deduction only to arrive -- hardly knowing how -- in unfamiliar surroundings where all the usual landmarks seem to have disappeared.
[tr. Howard & Paret (1976)]
Narrow-mindedness: allowing one’s prejudices to become convictions.
Marcelene Cox (1900-1998) American writer, columnist, aphorist
“Ask Any Woman” column, Ladies’ Home Journal (Jun 1944)
(Source)
It is written that the last enemy to be vanquished is death. We should begin early in life to vanquish this enemy by obliterating every trace of the fear of death from our minds. Then can we turn to life and fill the whole horizon of our souls with it, turn with added zest to all the serious tasks which it imposes and to the pure delights which here and there it affords.
Felix Adler (1851-1933) German-American educator
Life and Destiny, Lecture 8 “Suffering and Consolation” (1903)
(Source)
Miserable mortals! Can we contribute to the honour and glory of God? I could wish that expression were struck out of our prayer books.
The great question for our time is, how to make sure that the continuing scientific revolution brings benefits to everybody rather than widening the gap between rich and poor. To lift up poor countries, and poor people in rich countries, from poverty, to give them a chance of a decent life, technology is not enough. Technology must be guided and driven by ethics if it is to do more than provide new toys for the rich.
Freeman Dyson (1923-2020) English-American theoretical physicist, mathematician, futurist
“Progress in Religion,” Templeton Prize acceptance speech, Washington National Cathedral (9 May 2000)
(Source)
A polite man is one who listens with interest to things he knows all about, when they are told him by a person who knows nothing about them.
Charles de Morny (1811-1865) French statesman [Charles Auguste Louis Joseph de Morny, 1st Duc de Morny]
(Attributed)
Earliest reference found here (1872).
Argument and flattery are but poor elements out of which to form a conversation.
[Widerspruch und Schmeichelei machen beide ein schlechtes Gespräch.]
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832) German poet, statesman, scientist
Elective Affinities [Die Wahlverwandtschaften], Part 2, ch. 4, “From Ottilie’s Journal [Aus Ottiliens Tagebuche]” (1809) [Niles ed. (1872)]
(Source)
(Source (German)). Alternate translation:
Contradiction and flattery both make bad conversation.
[tr. Hollingdale (1971)]
You now can see, dear son, the short-lived pranks
that goods consigned to Fortune’s hand will play,
causing such squabbles in the human ranks.
For all the gold that lies beneath the moon —
or all that ever did lie there — would bring
no respite to these worn-out souls, not one.[Or puoi, figliuol, veder la corta buffa
d’i ben che son commessi a la fortuna,
per che l’umana gente si rabuffa;
ché tutto l’oro ch’è sotto la luna
e che già fu, di quest’anime stanche
non poterebbe farne posare una.]Dante Alighieri (1265-1321) Italian poet
The Divine Comedy [Divina Commedia], Book 1 “Inferno,” Canto 7, l. 61ff (7.61-66) [Virgil] (1320) [tr. Kirkpatrick (2006)]
(Source)
On the never-ending labor and contention between the hoarders and the wasters. (Source (Italian)). Alternate translations:
Therefore, my Son, the vanity you may
Of Fortune's gifts perceive, for which Mankind
Raise such a bustle, and so much contend.
Not all the Gold which is beneath the moon,
Or which was by these wretched Souls possess'd,
Could ever satisfy their craving minds.
[tr. Rogers (1782), l. 53ff]
Learn hence of mortal things how vain the boast,
Learn to despise the low, degen'rate host,
And see their wealth how poor, how mean their pride;
Not all the mines below the wand'ring moon,
Not all the sun beholds at highest noon,
Can for a moment bid the fray subside.
[tr. Boyd (1802), st. 11]
Now may’st thou see, my son! how brief, how vain,
The goods committed into fortune’s hands,
For which the human race keep such a coil!
Not all the gold, that is beneath the moon,
Or ever hath been, of these toil-worn souls
Might purchase rest for one.
[tr. Cary (1814)]
Now may'st thou, son, behold how brief the shuffle
Of goods by shifting Fortune held in store,
For which the human kind so fiercely ruffle:
Since all below the moon of golden ore
That lies, or all those weary souls possessed,
Could purchase none a moment's peace the more.
[tr. Dayman (1843)]
But thou, my Son, mayest [now] see the brief mockery of the goods that are committed unto Fortune, for which the human kind contend with each other.
For all the gold that is beneath the moon, or ever was, could not give rest to a single one of these weary souls.
[tr. Carlyle (1849)]
Now see, my son, how frivolous and vain
The goods committed unto Fortune's hand,
For which the race will so rebutting stand.
Not all the gold that is beneath the moon,
Nor all these toil-worn creatures have possessed,
could purchase for them but a moment's rest.
[tr. Bannerman (1850)]
And now, my son, behold the folly brief
of the world's goods to fortune's guidance given,
And for which men so struggle and dispute.
Not all the gold that is beneath the moon,
Or ever was, unto these wearied souls
Could give one hour of respite or of peace.
[tr. Johnston (1867)]
Now canst thou. Son, behold the transient farce
Of goods that are committed unto Fortune,
For which the human race each other buffet;
For all the gold that is beneath the moon,
Or ever has been, of these weary souls
Could never make a single one repose.
[tr. Longfellow (1867)]
Now canst thou, my son, see the short game of the goods which are entrusted to Fortune, for which the human race buffet each other. For all the gold that is beneath the moon and that ever was, of these wearied souls could never make one of them rest.
[tr. Butler (1885)]
Now thou canst see, O son, the short-lived day
Of good, committed unto Fortune's 'hest,
For which the human race so strives alway.
Since all the gold beneath the moon possest,
Or ever owned by those worn souls of yore,
Could not make one of them one moment rest.
[tr. Minchin (1885)]
Now canst thou, son, see the brief jest of the goods that are committed unto Fortune, for which the human race so scramble; for all the gold that is beneath the moon, or that ever was, of these weary souls could not make a single one repose.
[tr. Norton (1892)]
Here mayest thou see, my son, the fleeting mockery of wealth that is the sport of Fortune, for sake of which men strive with one another. For all the gold that is, or ever hath been beneath the moon, could not procure repose for one of these weary souls.
[tr. Sullivan (1893)]
Now canst thou see, my son, how vain and short-lived
Are the good things committed unto fortune,
For which sake human folk set on each other.
For all the gold on which the moon now rises,
Or ever rose, would be quite unavailing
To set one of these weary souls at quiet.
[tr. Griffith (1908)]
Now mayst thou see, my son, the brief mockery of wealth committed to fortune, for which the race of men embroil themselves; for all the gold that is beneath the moon, or ever was, could not give rest to one of these weary souls.
[tr. Sinclair (1939)]
Now, my son, see to what a mock are brought
The goods of Fortune's keeping, and how soon!
Though to possess them still is all man's thought.
For all the gold that is beneath the moon,
Or ever was, never could buy repose
For one of those souls, faint to have that boon.
[tr. Binyon (1943)]
See now, my son, the fine and fleeting mock
Of all those goods men wrangle for -- the boon
That is delivered into the hand of Luck;
For all the gold that is beneath the moon,
Or ever was, could not avail to buy
Repose for one of these weary souls -- not one.
[tr. Sayers (1949)]
Now may you see the fleeting vanity
of the goods of Fortune for which men tear down
all that they are, to build a mockery.
Not all the gold that is or ever was
under the sky could buy for one of these
exhausted souls the fraction of a pause.
[tr. Ciardi (1954)]
Now you can see, my son, the brief mockery of the goods that are committed to Fortune, for which humankind contend with one another; because all the gold that is beneath the moon, or ever was, would not give rest to a single one of these weary souls.
[tr. Singleton (1970)]
You see, my son, the short-lived mockery
of all the wealth that is in Fortune's keep,
over which the human race is bickering;
for all the gold that is or ever was
beneath the moon won't buy a moment's rest
for even one among these weary souls.
[tr. Musa (1971)]
Now you can see, my son, how brief's the sport
of all those goods that are in Fortune's care,
for which the tribe of men contend and brawl;
for all the gold that is or ever was
beneath the moon could never offer rest
to even one of these exhausted spirits.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1980)]
Now you can see, my son, how short a life
Have the gifts which are distributed by Fortune,
And for which people get rough with one another:
So that all the gold there is beneath the moon
And all there ever was, could never give
A moment's rest to one of these tired souls.
[tr. Sisson (1981)]
Now you can see, my son, how ludicrous
And brief are all the goods in Fortune's ken,
Which humankind contend for: you see from this
How all the gold there is beneath the moon,
Or that there ever was, could not relieve
One of these weary souls.
[tr. Pinsky (1994), l. 55ff]
Now you can see, my son, the brief mockery of the goods that are committed to Fortune, for which the human race so squabbles;
for all the gold that is under the moon and that ever was, could not give rest to even one of these weary souls.
[tr. Durling (1996)]
But you, my son, can see now the vain mockery of the wealth controlled by Fortune, for which the human race fight with each other, since all the gold under the moon, that ever was, could not give peace to one of these weary souls.
[tr. Kline (2002)]
Now you see, my son, what brief mockery
Fortune makes of goods we trust her with,
for which the race of men embroil themselves.
All the gold that lies beneath the moon,
or ever did, could never give a moment's rest
to any of these wearied souls.
[tr. Hollander/Hollander (2007)]
Now see, my son, the futile mockery
Of spending a life accumulating possessions,
Competing with fortune and men for worthless frippery:
Take all the gold still lying under the moon,
Add all that ever was and you could not buy
A moment of rest for one of these souls -- not one.
[tr. Raffel (2010)]
You see it clear,
My son: the squalid fraud as brief as life
Of goods consigned to Fortune, whereupon
Cool heads come to the boil, hands to the knife.
For all the gold there is, and all that's gone,
Would give no shred of peace to even one
Of these drained souls.
[tr. James (2013), l. 56ff]
There are depths in man which go down the length of the lowest Hell, as there are heights which reach the highest Heaven; — for are not both Heaven and Hell made out of him, everlasting Miracle and Mystery that he is?
Thomas Carlyle (1795-1881) Scottish essayist and historian
The French Revolution, Vol. 3, Book 1, ch. 4 (1837)
(Source)
This is often cited back to its popular attributed variant in Tryon Edwards (ed.), A Dictionary of Thoughts (1891):
There are depths in man that go to the lowest hell, and heights that reach the highest heaven, for are not both heaven and hell made out of him, everlasting miracle and mystery that he is.
Martin Luther King, Jr., used that variant in his sermon, "The Christian Doctrine of Man," Detroit Council of Churches’ Noon Lenten Services (12 Mar 1958):
And so they would cry out with Carlyle that there are depths in man which go down to the lowest hell and heights which reach the highest heaven. For are not both heaven and hell made out of Him, everlasting miracle and mystery that He is.
Law is the highest reason, rooted in nature, which commands things that must be done and prohibits the opposite.
[Lex est ratio summa, insita in natura, quae iubet ea quae facienda sunt, prohibetque contraria.]
Marcus Tullius Cicero (106-43 BC) Roman orator, statesman, philosopher
De Legibus [On the Laws], Book 1, ch. 6 (1.6) / sec. 18 [Marcus] (c. 51 BC) [tr. Zetzel (1999)]
(Source)
Quoting "many" or "most" learned men (by which Cicero means Stoics). (Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
"Law (say they) is the highest reason, implanted in nature, which prescribes those things which ought to be done, and forbids the contrary."
[tr. Barham (1842)]
"Law," say they, "is the highest reason implanted in nature, which prescribes those things which ought to be done, and forbids the contrary."
[tr. Barham/Yonge (1878)]
Law is the highest expression of the system of nature, which ordains what is right and forbids what is wrong.
[ed. Harbottle (1906)]
Law is the highest reason, implanted in Nature, which commends what ought to be done and forbids the opposite.
[tr. Keyes (1928)]
Law is the highest reason, inherent in nature, which enjoins what ought to be done and forbids the opposite.
[tr. Rudd (1998)]
But you! Your clothes
have violet and saffron stitching, your hobby’s
laziness, you love to dance, your tunics
have long sleeves and your hats are bonnets!
O Phrygian ladies (no men here), go prance over
Mount Dindyma’s ridge, where the double flute plays
your sort of tunes. Your tambourines and Mother Ida’s
boxwoods call you. Leave the weapons to real men.[Vobis picta croco et fulgenti murice vestis,
desidiae cordi, iuvat indulgere choreis,
et tunicae manicas et habent redimicula mitrae.
O vere Phrygiae, neque enim Phryges, ite per alta
Dindyma ubi adsuetis biforem dat tibia cantum!
Tympana vos buxusque vocat Berecyntia Matris
Idaeae sinite arma viris et cedite ferro.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 9, l. 614ff (9.614-620) (29-19 BC) [tr. Bartsch (2021)]
(Source)
[Numanus Remulus, a Rutulian, trash-talking the Trojan soldiers under siege; he is promptly shot by Ascanius. Dindymus (etc.) is a mountain in Galatia, a worship-place of Cybele, whose rites used the instruments described. The Trojans are often identified with their allies, the Phrygians, in the Aeneid. As Cybele was the chief deity of the Phrygians, a mother goddess with a eunuch priesthood, the association of Phrygians (and "Asians" in general) with effeminacy was not uncommon in the Aeneid (or in other Roman works of the period), even if it is simultaneously presenting the Trojans as the founders of Rome.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Your vests embroider'd with rich purple shine;
In sloth you glory, and in dances join.
Your vests have sweeping sleeves; with female pride
Your turbants underneath your chins are tied.
Go, Phrygians, to your Dindymus again!
Go, less than women, in the shapes of men!
Go, mix'd with eunuchs, in the Mother's rites,
Where with unequal sound the flute invites;
Sing, dance, and howl, by turns, in Ida's shade:
Resign the war to men, who know the martial trade!
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Your very dress is embroidered with saffron-hues and gaudy purple; indolence is your heart's delight; to indulge in dances you love; your vests have sleeves, and your mitres ribands. O Phrygian women, surely, for Phrygian men you cannot be! go range along the lofty tops of Dindymus, where pipe sounds the discordant note to you accustomed. The timbrels and Berecynthian flute of the Ideaean mother Cybele invite you: leave arms to men, and from the sword refrain.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
You flaunt your robes in all men's eyes,
Your saffron and your purple dyes,
Recline on downy couch, or weave
The dreamy dance from morn to eve:
Sleeved tunics guard your tender skins,
And ribboned mitres prop your chins.
Phrygians! -- nay rather Phrygian fair!
Hence, to your Dindymus repair!
Go where the flute's congenial throat
Shrieks through two doors its slender note,
Where pipe and cymbal call the crew;
These are the instruments for you:
Leave men, like us, in arms to deal,
Nor bruise your lily hands with steel.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
You, in your broidered vests of saffron hue
And glowing purple, indolently live;
Delighting in your dances, and your sleeves.
And caps, with lappets underneath your chins.
Yea, Phrygian women, verily, not men!
Hence to the summits of your Dindymus,
Where breathes the flute in your accustomed ear
Its two weak notes. The Berecynthian pipe
And timbrels call you. Throw your weapons down!
Leave arms to heroes of a sturdier stuff.
[tr. Cranch (1872), l. 757ff]
Yours is embroidered raiment of saffron and shining sea-purple. Indolence is your pleasure, your delight the luxurious dance; you wear sleeved tunics and ribboned turbans. O right Phrygian women, not even Phrygian men! traverse the heights of Dindymus, where the double-mouthed flute breathes familiar music. The drums call you, and the Berecynthian boxwood of the mother of Ida; leave arms to men, and lay down the sword.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
But ye -- the raiment saffron-stained, with purple glow tricked out --
These are your heart-joys: ye are glad to lead the dance about.
Sleeve-coated folk, O ribbon-coifed, not even Phrygian men,
But Phrygian wives, to Dindymus the high go get ye then!
To hear the flute's twin-mouthèd song as ye are wont to do!
The Berecynthian Mother's box and cymbals call to you
From Ida: let men deal with war, and drop down your swords.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
Ye love to dance, and dally with the fair,
In saffron robes with purple flounces gay.
Your toil is ease, and indolence your care,
And tunics hung with sleeves, and ribboned coifs ye wear.
Go Phrygian women, for ye are not men!
Hence, to your Dindymus, and roam her heights
With Corybantian eunuchs! Get ye, then,
And hear the flute, harsh-grating, that invites
With two-mouthed music to her lewd delights,
Where boxen pipe and timbrel from afar
Shriek forth the summons to her sacred rites.
Put by the sword, poor dotards as ye are,
Leave arms to men, like us, nor meddle with the war.
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 79-80, l. 708ff.]
But ye! your gowns are saffron needlework
or Tyrian purple; ye love shameful ease,
or dancing revelry. Your tunics fiow
long-sleeved, and ye have soft caps ribbon-bound.
Aye, Phrygian girls are ye, not Phrygian men!
Hence to your hill of Dindymus! Go hear
the twy-mouthed piping ye have loved so long.
The timbrel, hark! the Berecynthian flute
calls you away, and Ida's goddess calls.
Leave arms to men, true men! and quit the sword!
[tr. Williams (1910)]
But ye are clothed in embroidered saffron and gleaming purple; sloth is your joy, your delight is to indulge the dance; your tunics have sleeves and your turbans ribbons. O ye Phrygian women, indeed! -- for Phrygian men are ye not -- go ye over the heights of Dindymus, where to accustomed ears the pipe utters music from double mouths! The timbrels call you, and the Berecynthian boxwood of the mother of Ida: leave arms to men, and quit the sword.
[tr. Fairclough (1918)]
But you -- O wonderful in purple and saffron! --
Love doing nothing, you delight in dancing,
And oh, those fancy clothes, sleeves on the tunics,
And ribbons in the bonnets! Phrygian women,
By God, not Phrygian men! Be gone forever
Over the heights of Dindymus; pipe and timbrel
Call you to female rites: leave arms to men,
The sword to warriors!
[tr. Humphries (1951), l. 253ff]
But you, in your dresses embroidered with yellow and loud purple,
You with the hearts of loafers, you devotees of dancing,
With frilly sleeves to your tunics, and bonnets kept on by ribbons! --
You Phrygian women (for Phrygian men you are not), run away
To Mount Dindymus, where the double-mouthed pipe dweedles for addicts!
The timbrels and Berecynthian fife of Cybele call you.
Leave fighting to men, I advise you; relinquish sword-play to others.
[tr. Day-Lewis (1952)]
But you wear robes of saffron, ornamented
and gleaming purole; you like laziness,
and you delight in dances; and your tunics
have sleeves, your bonnets, ribbons. You indeed
are Phrygian women -- hardly Phrygian men:
now gow, prance through high Dindyma, there where
the twin-mouthed pipes delight familiar ears!
The timbrel and the Berecynthian flute
of Ida's mother summon you to revels;
leave arms to men, you have had enough of swords.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 820ff]
You people dress in yellow and glowing red,
You live for sloth, and you go in for dancing,
Sleeves to your tunics, ribbons to your caps.
Phrygian women, in truth, not Phrygian men!
Climb Mount Dindyma where the double pipes
Make song for the effet, where the small drums
And the Idaean Mother's Berecynthian
Boxwood flute are always wheedling you!
Leave war to fighting men, give up the sword.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 855ff]
But you like your clothes dyed with yellow saffron and the bright juice of the purple fish. Your delight is in dancing and idleness. You have sleeves to your tunics and ribbons to keep your bonnets on. You are Phrygian women, not Phrygian men! Away with you over the heights of Mount Dindymus, where you can hear your favourite tunes on the double pipe. The tambourines are calling you and the boxwood fifes of the Berecyntian Mother of Mount Ida. Leave weapons to the men. Make way for the iron of our swords.
[tr. West (1990)]
You wear embroidered saffron and gleaming purple,
idleness pleases you, you delight in the enjoyment of dance,
and your tunics have sleeves, and your hats have ribbons.
O truly you Phrygian women, as you’re not Phrygian men,
run over the heights of Dindymus, where a double-reed
makes music for accustomed ears. The timbrels call to you,
and the Berecynthian boxwood flute of the Mother of Ida:
leave weapons to men and abandon the sword.
[tr. Kline (2002)]
But you, with your saffron braided dress, your flashy purple,
you live for lazing, lost in your dancing, your delight,
blowzy sleeves on your war-shirts, ribbons on bonnets.
Phrygian women -- that’s what you are -- not Phrygian men!
Go traipsing over the ridge of Dindyma, catch the songs
on the double pipe you dote on so! The tambourines,
they’re calling for you now, and the boxwood flutes
of your Berecynthian Mother perched on Ida!
Leave the fighting to men. Lay down your swords!
[tr. Fagles (2006)]
When the judgment day comes, civilization will have an alibi: “I never took a human life, I only sold the fellow the gun to take it with.”
When I published my first book, I was gravely warned by some of my female acquaintances that no woman could expect to be regarded as a lady after she had written a book.
Lydia Marie Child (1802-1880) American abolitionist, activist, journalist, suffragist
“Concerning Women,” The Independent (21 Oct 1869)
(Source)
A cheerful temper joined with innocence will make beauty attractive, knowledge delightful and wit good-natured. It will lighten sickness, poverty and affliction, convert ignorance into an amiable simplicity, and render deformity itself agreeable.
“Dystopia” isn’t when things go wrong. Assuming nothing will go wrong doesn’t make you an optimist, it makes you an asshole. A dangerous asshole. Assuming nothing will go wrong is why they didn’t put enough lifeboats on the Titanic. Dystopia isn’t where things go wrong. Dystopia is when things go wrong, and nothing can be done about it.
The delight of social relations between friends is fostered by a shared attitude to life, together with certain differences of opinion on intellectual matters, through which either one is confirmed in one’s own views, or else one gains practice and instruction through argument.
[Le plaisir de la société entre les amis se cultive par une ressemblance de goût sur ce qui regarde les moeurs, et par quelques différences d’opinions sur les sciences: par là ou l’on s’affermit dans ses sentiments, ou l’on s’exerce et l’on s’instruit par la dispute.]
Jean de La Bruyère (1645-1696) French essayist, moralist
The Characters [Les Caractères], ch. 5 “Of Society and Conversation [De la société et de la conversation],” § 61 (5.61) (1688) [tr. Stewart (1970)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:
The pleasure of Society amongst Friends is cultivated by a likeness of Inclinations, as to Manners; and a difference in Opinion, as to Sciences: the one confirms and humours us in our sentiments; the other exercises and instructs us by disputation.
[Bullord ed. (1696)]
The Pleasure of Society amongst Friends, is cultivated by a likeness of Inclinations, as to Manners, and by some difference in Opinion, as to Sciences: The one confirms us in our Sentiments, the other exercises and instructs us by Disputation.
[Curll ed. (1713)]
The pleasure of social intercourse amongst friends is kept up by a similarity of morals and manners, and by slender differences in opinion about science; this confirms us in our sentiments, exercises our faculties or instructs us through arguments.
[tr. Van Laun (1885)]
When a sensible man
has a good cause to defend, to be eloquent
is no great feat. Your tongue is so nimble
one might think you had some sense, but your words
contain none at all. The powerful man
who matches insolence with glibness is worst than a fool.
He is a public danger![ὅταν λάβῃ τις τῶν λόγων ἀνὴρ σοφὸς
καλὰς ἀφορμάς, οὐ μέγ᾽ ἔργον εὖ λέγειν:
σὺ δ᾽ εὔτροχον μὲν γλῶσσαν ὡς φρονῶν ἔχεις,
ἐν τοῖς λόγοισι δ᾽ οὐκ ἔνεισί σοι φρένες.
θράσει δὲ δυνατὸς καὶ λέγειν οἷός τ᾽ ἀνὴρ
κακὸς πολίτης γίγνεται νοῦν οὐκ ἔχων.]Euripides (485?-406? BC) Greek tragic dramatist
Bacchæ [Βάκχαι], l. 266ff [Tiresias/Τειρεσίας] (405 BC) [tr. Cacoyannis (1982)]
(Source)
To Pentheus. (Source (Greek)). Alternate translations:
When the wise man hath found a specious topic
On which to argue, he with ease may frame
An eloquent harangue. Your tongue indeed
Is voluble like theirs who reason well,
But in your language no discretion reigns.
He who possesses courage, sovereign power. A
And fluency of speech, if not endued
With wisdom, is an evil citizen.
[tr. Wodhull (1809)]
Whenever a wise man takes a good occasion for his speech, it is not a great task to speak well. You have a rapid tongue as though you were sensible, but there is no sense in your words. A man powerful in his boldness, one capable of speaking well, becomes a bad citizen in his lack of sense.
[tr. Buckley (1850)]
'Tis easy to be eloquent, for him
That's skilled in speech, and hath a stirring theme.
Thou hast the flowing tongue of a wise man,
But there's no wisdom in thy fluent words;
For the bold demagogue, powerful in speech,
Is but a dangerous citizen lacking sense.
[tr. Milman (1865)]
When wise men reason from sound principles,
They find it no hard task to reason well.
Thy tongue’s as fluent as the wisest man’s,
And yet thy argument is void of sense.
[tr. Rogers (1872), l. 253ff]
Whenso a man of wisdom finds a good topic for argument, it is no difficult matter to speak well; but thou, though possessing a glib tongue as if endowed with sense, art yet devoid thereof in all thou sayest. A headstrong man, if he have influence and a capacity for speaking, makes a bad citizen because he lacks sense.
[tr. Coleridge (1891)]
Whene'er a wise man finds a noble theme
For speech, 'tis easy to be eloquent.
Thou -- roundly runs thy tongue, as thou wert wise;
But in these words of thine sense is there none.
The rash man, armed with power and ready of speech,
Is a bad citizen, as void of sense.
[tr. Way (1898)]
Good words, my son, come easily, when he
That speaks is wise, and speaks but for the right.
Else come they never! Swift are thine, and bright
As though with thought, yet have no thought at all.
[tr. Murray (1902)]
Give a wise man an honest brief to plead
and his eloquence is no remarkable achievement.
But you are glib; your phrases come rolling out
smoothly on the tongue, as though your words were wise
instead of foolish. The man whose glibness flows
from his conceit of speech declares the thing he is:
a worthless and a stupid citizen.
[tr. Arrowsmith (1960)]
When a wise man chooses a sane basis
for his arguments, it is no great task to speak well;
but you have a glib tongue, as though in your right mind,
yet in your words there is no real sense.
The man who is influential by sheer aggressiveness, and knows how to speak,
proves to be a bad citizen -- for he lacks sanity.
[tr. Kirk (1970)]
When a clever man has a plausible theme to argue, to be eloquent is no great feat. But though you seem, by your glib tongue, to be intelligent, yet your words are foolish. Power and eloquence in a headstrong man can only lead to folly; and such a man is a danger to the state.
[tr. Vellacott (1973)]
Oh it's so easy for some to make speeches.
They pick a soft target and the words rush out.
Now listen you. Your tongue runs loose
Makes a plausible sound and might
Almost be taken for sense. But you have none.
Your glibness flows from sheer conceit.
Arrogant, over-confident and a gift -- yes --
A gift for phrases, and that makes you a great
Danger to your fellow men.
[tr. Soyinka (1973)]
A man who takes a fair basis for speaking,
a wise man, has no trouble speaking well;
you have a well-wheeled tongue, as though thinking,
but in the words you speak there is no thought.
A man empowered by daring and able to speak
becomes a bad citizen, devoid of reason.
[tr. Neuburg (1988)]
When some wise man has a fair cause
o present, to speak well is easy.
You have a tongue, glib like thought,
But no sense lies in your words.
The man that rashness prompts to speak
Proves an evil citizen and senseless.
[tr. Blessington (1993)]
Whenever a wise man sets out to argue an honest case
it's no great undertaking to argue well.
Your tongue runs smooth like a wheel, as if you were a man of reason,
but your words reveal no reason.
If he behaves recklessly, an able and articulate man
turns out to be a bad citizen because he lacks good sense.
[tr. Esposito (1998)]
When a prudent speaker takes up a noble cause, he’ll have no great trouble to speak well. You, on the other hand, have a tongue that runs on smoothly and sounds intelligent. But what it says is brainless. True, boldness can help a man speak powerfully, but he’ll turn out bad for the city because he'll have no sense.
[tr. Woodruff (1999)]
It's no great task to speak well, when a man's
Intelligent and starts well with good words.
But you: your tongue runs smoothly, as if you had
Some understanding. Yet your words are senseless.
A man like you, whose strength is that he's bold,
Who's good at speaking, too, can only make
a bad citizen -- for he lacks good sense.
[tr. Gibbons/Segal (2000)]
When a wise man has a good case to argue, eloquence is easy. As for you, though you think yourself clever and have a ready tongue, there is no intelligence in what you say. [A man whose power lies in brashness and who is a fluent speaker becomes a bad citizen if he lacks sense.]
[tr. Kovacs (2002)]
As for you -- your tongue is quick and your talk runs as if you had wit, but there is none in what you say. A man who confuses impudence with strength is a fool.
[tr. Rao/Wolf (2004)]
When a wise man is given the opportunity to speak, it’s no big problem to speak the truth. You, Pentheus, you are, of course an articulate man, or so you think, but your words lack logic. Audacity, strength and eloquence all on their own, make for a bad citizen -- a stupid one.
[tr. Theodoridis (2005)]
When a man who's wise in words starts his speech
from a proper course, it is no great task to speak well;
and you, spinning a tricky tongue, seem to make sense,
but there is no sense in what you are saying;
and a man who is bold, powerful and a clever speaker
makes for a bad citizen, if he has not the proper mind.
[tr. Valerie (2005)]
When a man of wisdom has good occasion to speak out and takes the opportunity, it's not that hard to give an excellent speech. You've got a quick tongue and seem intelligent, but your words don't make any sense at all. A fluent orator whose power comes from self-assurance and from nothing else makes a bad citizen, for he lacks sense.
[tr. Johnston (2008)]
When a wise man has an honest case to plead, then eloquence, I find, is very easy to achieve. You think yourself clever, and have a smooth tongue, but, your words are foolish. The man whose power lies in his conceit does not make a good citizen.
[tr. Robertson (2014)]
It’s no great task for a wise man to speak well when the time comes, if he picks it carefully. You hold yourself as if you’re one of these ready-tongued individuals. You’re not. Your words lack sense behind them. Even the boldest speaker fails as a citizen when his words lack sense.
[tr. Pauly (2019)]
Wisdom from the wise surprises no one. But your clever tongue makes yuou seem wise when you have no understanding. Rash eloquence is society's disaster.
[tr. Behr/Foster (2019)]
Whenever a sophos man takes a good occasion for his speech, it is not a great task to speak well. You have a fluent tongue as though you are sensible, but there is no sense in your words. A bold and powerful man, one capable of speaking well, becomes a kakos citizen if he lacks sense.
[tr. Buckley/Sens/Nagy (2020)]
Kind-hearted people might of course think there was some ingenious way to disarm or defeat the enemy without too much bloodshed, and might imagine this is the true goal of the art of war. Pleasant as it sounds, it is a fallacy that must be exposed: War is such a dangerous business that mistakes that come from kindness are the very worst.
[Nun könnten menschenfreundliche Seelen sich leicht denken, es gebe ein künstliches Entwaffnen oder Niederwerfen des Gegners, ohne zuviel Wunden zu verursachen, und das sei die wahre Tendenz der Kriegskunst. Wie gut sich das auch ausnimmt, so muß man doch diesen Irrtum zerstören, denn in so gefährlichen Dingen, wie der Krieg eins ist, sind die Irrtümer, welche aus Gutmütigkeit entstehen, gerade die schlimmsten.]
Karl von Clausewitz (1780-1831) Prussian soldier, historian, military theorist
On War [Vom Kriege], Book 1, ch. 1 “What Is War? [Was ist der Krieg?],” § 3 (1.1.3) (1832) [tr. Howard & Paret (1976)]
(Source)
(Source (German)). Alternate translations:
Now, philanthropists may easily imagine there is a skilful method of disarming and overcoming an enemy without causing great bloodshed, and that this is the proper tendency of the art of War. However plausible this may appear, still it is an error which must be extirpated; for in such dangerous things as war, the errors which proceed from a spirit of benevolence are just the worst.
[tr. Graham (1873)]
Now philanthropic souls might easily imagine that there was an artistic way of disarming or overthrowing our adversary without too much bloodshed and that this was what the art of war should seek to achieve. However agreeable this may sound, it is a false idea which must be demolished. In affairs so dangerous as war, false ideas proceeding from kindness of heart are precisely the worst.
[tr. Jolles (1943)]
Children in a family are like flowers in a bouquet: there’s always one determined to face in an opposite direction from the way the arranger desires.
Marcelene Cox (1900-1998) American writer, columnist, aphorist
“Ask Any Woman” column, Ladies’ Home Journal (Sep 1956)
(Source)
The Fear of Death often proves Mortal, and sets People on Methods to save their Lives, which infallibly destroy them.
Joseph Addison (1672-1719) English essayist, poet, statesman
The Spectator, # 25 (29 Mar 1711)
(Source)
I never saw, heard, nor read, that the clergy were beloved in any nation where Christianity was the religion of the country. Nothing can render them popular, but some degree of persecution.
Trouble arises when either science or religion claims universal jurisdiction, when either religious dogma or scientific dogma claims to be infallible. Religious creationists and scientific materialists are equally dogmatic and insensitive. By their arrogance they bring both science and religion into disrepute. The media exaggerate their numbers and importance. The media rarely mention the fact that the great majority of religious people belong to moderate denominations that treat science with respect, or the fact that the great majority of scientists treat religion with respect so long as religion does not claim jurisdiction over scientific questions.
Freeman Dyson (1923-2020) English-American theoretical physicist, mathematician, futurist
“Progress in Religion,” Templeton Prize acceptance speech, Washington National Cathedral (9 May 2000)
(Source)
Politeness comes from within, from the heart: but if the forms of politeness are dispensed with, the spirit and the thing itself soon die away.
John Hall (1829-1898) Irish-American clergyman, academician (b. John Hall Magowan)
(Attributed)
(Source)
Ah, God’s avenging justice! who could heap up
suffering and pain as strange as I saw here?
How can we let our guilt bring us to this?[Ahi giustizia di Dio! tante chi stipa
nove travaglie e pene quant’io viddi?
e perché nostra colpa sì ne scipa?]Dante Alighieri (1265-1321) Italian poet
The Divine Comedy [Divina Commedia], Book 1 “Inferno,” Canto 7, l. 19ff (7.19-21) (1320) [tr. Musa (1971)]
(Source)
(Source (Italian)). Alternate translations:
Great is God's Justice; as increase with Crimes
Their Punishments, which here I many saw:
But why do we encourage this increase?
[tr. Rogers (1782)]
Justice of Heav'n, from thine avenging hand
What nameless toils and tortures fill the strand!
Ah! why on mortal failings so severe!
[tr. Boyd (1802), st. 4]
Almighty Justice! in what store thou heap’st
New pains, new troubles, as I here beheld!
Wherefore doth fault of ours bring us to this?
[tr. Cary (1814)]
Justice of God! who might such travail heap,
Such unimagined pangs as there I saw?
And wherefore drains our guilt the cup so deep?
[tr. Dayman (1843)]
Ah, Justice Divine! who shall tell in few the many fresh pains and travails that I saw? and why does guilt of ours thus waste us?
[tr. Carlyle (1849)]
Ah! justice of our God! how it heaps up
New troubles and new punishments I saw,
And fault of ours such penalty to draw!
[tr. Bannerman (1850)]
Oh, God's great justice! who heaps up the mass
Of pains and labors new which meet mine eye?
Why does our crime so tear and torture us?
[tr. Johnston (1867)]
Justice of God, ah! who heaps up so many
New toils and sufferings as I beheld?
And why doth our transgression waste us so?
[tr. Longfellow (1867)]
Ah justice of God! who crowds all the new labours and pains that I saw? and wherefore does our sin so bring us low?
[tr. Butler (1885)]
Justice of God! who heapeth up such store
Of novel toils and pains which I have seen!
And why doth sin in such profusion pour?
[tr. Minchin (1885)]
Ah, Justice of God! Who heapeth up so many new travails and penalties as I saw? And why doth our sin so waste us?
[tr. Norton (1892)]
Ah me! Justice of God, that heapeth up un-heard-of toils and tortures in numbers such as I beheld! And why doth man's transgression scourge man so?
[tr. Sullivan (1893)]
Justice of God! that it can pack together
Such novel pains and travails as I witnessed!
And why is our own fault thus our destruction?
[tr. Griffith (1908)]
Ah, Justice of God, who crams together
all the new toils and pains that I saw?
And why does our sin so lay us waste?
[tr. Sinclair (1939)]
Ah! Divine Justice! Who crowds throe on throe,
Toil upon toil, such as mine eyes now met?
And why doth guilt of ours consume us so?
[tr. Binyon (1943)]
God's justice! Who shall tell the agonies,
Heaped thick and new before my shuddering glance?
Why must our guilt smite us with strokes like this?
[tr. Sayers (1949)]
O Holy Justice,
who could relate the agonies I saw!
What guilt is man that he can come to this?
[tr. Ciardi (1954)]
Ah, justice of God! who crams together so many new travails and penalties as I saw? And why does our guilt so waste us?
[tr. Singleton (1970)]
Justice of God! Who has amassed as many
strange tortures and travails as I have seen?
Why do we let our guilt consume us so?
[tr. Mandelbaum (1980)]
Justice of God! Who except you could gather
As many pains and punishments as I saw?
And why is it our faults must so devour us?
[tr. Sisson (1981)]
Justice of God! Who is it hat heaps together
So much peculiar torture and travail?
How is it that we choose to sin and wither?
[tr. Pinsky (1994), ll. 17-19]
Ah, justice of God! who stuffs in so many strange
travails and punishments as I saw? and why does
our own guilt so destroy us?
[tr. Durling (1996)]
O Divine Justice! Who can tell the many new pains and troubles, that I saw, and why our guilt so destroys us?
[tr. Kline (2002)]
God in all justice! I saw there so many
new forms of travail, so tightly crammed. By whom?
How can our guilt so rend and ruin us?
[tr. Kirkpatrick (2006)]
Ah, Justice of God, who heaps up
such strange punishment and pain as I saw there?
And why do our sins so waste us?
[tr. Hollander/Hollander (2007)]
Ah, God of Justice, Who does this, scraping
Together the brand-new pains and punishments
I saw? And why should sinning cause such wastage?
[tr. Raffel (2010)]
Merciful God! Who gets it in,
This wretched harvest? What accounts for it?
And why to such pain are we led by sin?
[tr. James (2013), ll. 18-20]
I believe that thousands of men would be orthodox enough in certain points, if divines had not been too curious, or too narrow, in reducing orthodoxy within the compass of subtleties, niceties, and distinctions, with little warrant from Scripture, and less from reason or good policy.
Science and religion are two windows that people look through, trying to understand the big universe outside, trying to understand why we are here. The two windows give different views, but they look out at the same universe. Both views are one-sided, neither is complete. Both leave out essential features of the real world. And both are worthy of respect.
Freeman Dyson (1923-2020) English-American theoretical physicist, mathematician, futurist
“Progress in Religion,” Templeton Prize acceptance speech, Washington National Cathedral (9 May 2000)
(Source)
Write Injuries in Dust, Benefits in Marble.
Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790) American statesman, scientist, philosopher, aphorist
Poor Richard’s Almanack, “August” (1747)
(Source)
As with so much else of Franklin's, this phrase is not without earlier forms, e.g.: Thomas More, History of King Richard III (1513):
For men use, if they have an evil turn, to write it in marble; and whosoever does us a good turn, we write it in dust.
Or see Shakespeare, Henry VIII 4.2.45-46 (1613):
Men's evil manners live in brass, their virtues
We write in water.
Variants include "but kindnesses in marble" or "but kindness in marble."
This also shows up as a French saying in various forms:
- "Ecrivez les injures sur le sable, mais les bienfaits sur le marbre."
- "Écrivez les injures sur le sable, gravez les bienfaits sur le marbre."
No one would talk much in society, if he only knew how often he misunderstands others.
[Niemand würde viel in Gesellschaften sprechen, wenn er sich bewußt wäre, wie oft er die andern mißversteht.]
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832) German poet, statesman, scientist
Elective Affinities [Die Wahlverwandtschaften], Part 2, ch. 4, “From Ottilie’s Journal [Aus Ottiliens Tagebuche]” (1809) [Niles ed. (1872)]
(Source)
(Source (German)). Alternate translation:
We would not say very much in company if we realized how often we misunderstand what others say.
[tr. Hollingdale (1971)]
Well, we cuss the lawmakers. But I notice we’re always perfectly willin’ to share in any of the sums of money that they might distribute.
Cheerfulness is to the spiritual atmosphere what sunshine is to the earthly landscape. I am resolved to cherish cheerfulness with might and main.
Lydia Marie Child (1802-1880) American abolitionist, activist, journalist, suffragist
Letter to Lucy Osgood (1865)
(Source)
People often overestimate what will happen in the next two years and underestimate what will happen in ten.
Bill Gates (b. 1955) American software magnate [William Henry Gates III]
The Road Ahead, “Afterword” (1996 ed.)
(Source)
First use of this specific formulation, but similar phrases can be traced back to the 1960s. More discussion of variations on this theme: People Tend To Overestimate What Can Be Done In One Year And To Underestimate What Can Be Done In Five Or Ten Years – Quote Investigator®.
The very essence of politeness seems to be to take care that by our words and actions we make other people pleased with us as well as with themselves.
[Il me semble que l’esprit de politesse est une certaine attention à faire que par nos paroles et par nos manières les autres soient contents de nous et d’eux-mêmes.]
Jean de La Bruyère (1645-1696) French essayist, moralist
The Characters [Les Caractères], ch. 5 “Of Society and of Conversation [De la société et de la conversation],” § 32 (5.32) (1688) [tr. Van Laun (1885)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:
The Politeness of the Mind is a certain care to make us pleasing by our discourses and manners to our selves and others.
[Bullord ed. (1696)]
Politeness seems to be a certain Care, by the manner of our Words and Actions, to make others pleas'd with us and themselves.
[Curll ed. (1713)]
Politeness seems to be a Care to model our Discourses and Manners so as to please ourselves and others.
[Browne ed. (1752)]
It seems to me that the spirit of politeness lies in taking care to speak and act in such a way as to make others pleased with us and with themselves.
[tr. Stewart (1970)]
Political loyalty, military obedience are excellent things, but they neither require nor do they justify the commission of patently wicked acts. There comes a point where a man must refuse to answer to his leader if he is also to answer to his conscience.
Hartley Shawcross (1902-2003) English barrister, politician, diplomat
Opening remarks, Nuremberg War Crimes Tribunal (4 Dec 1945)
(Source)
Shawcross was Attorney General of the UK and Chief Prosecutor for the UK at the tribunal
When once you see
the glint of wine shining at the feasts of women,
then you may be sure the festival is rotten.[γυναιξὶ γὰρ
ὅπου βότρυος ἐν δαιτὶ γίγνεται γάνος,
οὐχ ὑγιὲς οὐδὲν ἔτι λέγω τῶν ὀργίων.]Euripides (485?-406? BC) Greek tragic dramatist
Bacchæ [Βάκχαι], l. 260ff [Pentheus/Πενθεύς] (405 BC) [tr. Arrowsmith (1960)]
(Source)
(Source (Greek)). Alternate translations:
For when women
Share at their feasts the grape's bewitching juice;
From their licentious orgies, I pronounce
No good results.
[tr. Wodhull (1809)]
For where women have the delight of the grape-cluster at a feast, I say that none of their rites is healthy any longer.
[tr. Buckley (1850)]
For where ’mong women
The grape’s sweet poison mingles with the feast,
Nought holy may we augur of such worship.
[tr. Milman (1865)]
When women drain the wine-cup at the feast,
Foul is the orgie, dangerous the disease.
[tr. Rogers (1872)]
For where the gladsome grape is found at women’s feasts, I deny that their rites have any longer good results.
[tr. Coleridge (1891)]
For when
In women's feasts the cluster's pride hath part,
No good, say I, comes of their revelry.
[tr. Way (1898)]
When once the gleam
Of grapes hath lit a Woman's Festival,
In all their prayers is no more health at all!
[tr. Murray (1902)]
For where women
have the sparkle of the vine in their festivities,
there, I say, nothing wholesome remains in their rituals.
[tr. Kirk (1970)]
As for women, my opinion is this: when the sparkle of sweet wine appears at their feasts, no good can be expected from their ceremonies.
[tr. Vellacott (1973)]
I tell you, when women
have the cluster’s refreshment at banquets,
there’s nothing healthy left about their orgies.
[tr. Neuburg (1988)]
Take my word,
when women are allowed to fast on wine, there is no
telling to what lengths their filthy minds will go!
[tr. Cacoyannis (1982)]
I say that feast where a woman takes
The gleaming grape is most diseased.
[tr. Blessington (1993)]
For whenever the liquid joy
of the grape comes into women's festivals, then, I assure, you,
there's nothing wholesome in their rites.
[tr. Esposito (1998)]
Because when women
get their sparkle at a feast from wine,
I say the entire ritual is corrupt.
[tr. Woodruff (1999)]
For when the women have
The bright grape-cluster gleaming at their feasts,
There’s nothing healthy in these rites, I say.
[tr. Gibbons/Segal (2000)]
Wherever women get the gleaming grape to drink in their feasts, everything about their rites is diseased.
[tr. Kovacs (2002)]
I’m telling you both, no good comes out of drunk women.
Wine wisdom and orgies are dangerous.
[tr. Theodoridis (2005)]
For whenever the pleasure of the grape's
cluster comes shimmering to women in feast, I say no-
thing is left wholesome in their orgies!
[tr. Valerie (2005)]
Whenever women at some banquet start to take pleasure in the gleaming wine, I say there's nothing healthy in their worship.
[tr. Johnston (2008)]
It's always the same: as soon as you allow drink and women at a festival, everything gets sordid.
[tr. Robertson (2014)]
When women start getting into the wine, I say it’s gone too far. It’s not healthy.
[tr. Pauly (2019)]
There is no good in these festivals where shimmering wine corrupts women.
[tr. Behr/Foster (2019)]
For where women have the delight of the grape at a feast, I say that none of their rites is healthy any longer.
[tr. Buckley/Sens/Nagy (2020)]