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 (1956-09)
(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)]
War is an act of violence, which in its application knows no bounds
[Der Krieg ist ein Akt der Gewalt, und es gibt in der Anwendung derselben keine Grenzen.]
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. Graham (1873)]
(Source)
(Source (German)). Alternate translations:
War is an act of violence pushed to its utmost bounds.
[tr. Graham/Maude (1908)]
War is an act of force, and to the application of that force there is no limit.
[tr. Jolles (1943)]
War is an act of force, and there is no logical limit to the application of that force.
[tr. Howard & Paret (1976)]
Our Constitution relies on our electorate’s complete ideological freedom to nourish independent and responsible intelligence and preserve our democracy from that submissiveness, timidity and herd-mindedness of the masses which would foster a tyranny of mediocrity.
Robert H. Jackson (1892-1954) US Supreme Court Justice (1941-54), lawyer, jurist, politician
American Communications Assn. v. Douds, 339 U.S. 382, 442 (1950) [concurrence and dissent]
(Source)
Those three things — autonomy, complexity, and a connection between effort and reward — are, most people will agree, the three qualities that work has to have if it is to be satisfying.
Malcolm Gladwell (b. 1963) Anglo-Canadian journalist, author, public speaker
Outliers: The Story of Success, ch. 5, sec. 10 (2008)
(Source)
Hypocrisy is the tribute that vice pays to virtue.
[L’hypocrisie est un hommage que le vice rend à la vertu.]
François VI, duc de La Rochefoucauld (1613-1680) French epigrammatist, memoirist, noble
Réflexions ou sentences et maximes morales [Maxims], ¶ 218 (1665-1678) [tr. FitzGibbon (1957)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:
Hypocrisie is a Sort of Homage which Vice pays to Vertue.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶ 219]
Hypocrisy is the homage that vice pays to virtue.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶ 231; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶ 209; ed. Carville (1835), ¶ 449; tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶ 218]
Hypocrisy is the homage that vice renders to virtue.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶ 227]
Hypocrisy is a tribute vice pays to virtue.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶ 223; tr Tancock (1959), ¶ 218]
Hypocrisy is a sort of homage which vice pays to virtue.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶ 218]
Hypocrisy is the homage vice offers to virtue.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶ 218]
Hypocrisy is a form of homage that vice pays to virtue.
[tr. Whichello (2016), ¶ 218]
No one would ever come into a mixed party with spectacles on his nose, if he did but know that at once we women lose all pleasure in looking at him or listening to what he has to say.
[Es käme niemand mit der Brille auf der Nase in ein vertrauliches Gemach, wenn er wüßte, daß uns Frauen sogleich die Lust vergeht ihn anzusehen und uns mit ihm zu unterhalten.]
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832) German poet, statesman, scientist
Elective Affinities [Die Wahlverwandtschaften], Part 2, ch. 5, “From Ottilie’s Journal [Aus Ottiliens Tagebuche]” (1809) [Niles ed. (1872)]
(Source)
(Source (German)). Alternate translation:
No one would come into a private room wearing spectacles if he realized that we women at once lose all desire to look at or talk with him.
[tr. Hollingdale (1971)]
We can’t be creative if we refuse to be confused. Change always starts with confusion; cherished interpretations must dissolve to make way for what’s new.
Margaret J. "Meg" Wheatley (b. 1944) American writer, teacher, speaker, management consultant
Turning to One Another, “Willing to Be Disturbed” (2002)
(Source)
“Pape Satàn, pape Satàn aleppe!”
so Plutus, with his grating voice, began.[“Pape Satàn, pape Satàn aleppe!”,
cominciò Pluto con la voce chioccia.]Dante Alighieri (1265-1321) Italian poet
The Divine Comedy [Divina Commedia], Book 1 “Inferno,” Canto 7, l. 1ff (7.1-2) (1320) [tr. Mandelbaum (1980)]
(Source)
There is a conflation in this speaker between Pluto, Roman God of the Underworld (modeled after the Greek Hades), and Plutus, Roman God of Wealth (both given as Pluto in Italian). The Romans themselves sometimes conflated the two figures (wealth, in the form of precious metals and gems, coming from below the ground). Given the sinners in this Circle (hoarders and wasters), the connection with wealth is probably intentional.
The actual words spoken remain something of a mystery. Dayman notes the phrase has "employed the ingenuity of commentators," and Butler that it has generated "commentary enough to fill a very large volume," but Sayers notes of the explanations "none of them is very convincing." Musa says, "this line, while it has never been interpreted satisfactorily, has certainly been interpreted variously." The line even gets its own Wikipedia entry.Earlier translators try to make sense of it; later ones just record Dante's original words and then speculate in footnotes.
The connection between pape and papa (Pope) is considered significant by most scholars, though papae is also Latin for an exclamation of surprise (παπαί in Greek), like "Oh!" Satan is the Hebrew term for "Adversary" and usually used to represent the master of Hell (though the name is not used lower down in Inferno when he is actually encountered); some scholars suggest Dante the Pilgrim, himself, is being called an adversary/enemy by the speaker, who acts as a guard. Some have tried to connect aleppe to the first letter of the Hebrew alphabet, aleph, with an implication of primacy (as of God, or, presumptively, Satan) or an an exclamation of grief or pain (as it was used in Medieval times).
In sum, this seems to be either infernal gibberish, or (as Virgil appears to understand it) some metaphysical jargon invoking the Devil in surprise or anger over a living mortal's intrusion. I'm mostly just amused by the array of accents / diacritical marks various translators use.
(Source (Italian)). Alternate translations:
O Satan, Satan, Oh alas! exclaim'd
Pluto, expressing both surprise and dread.
[tr. Rogers (1782)]
"Prince of the Fiends," a voice exclaim'd, "arise;
Behold thy realms expos'd to mortal eyes!"
[tr. Boyd (1802)]
“Ah me! O Satan! Satan!” loud exclaim’d
Plutus, in accent hoarse of wild alarm.
[tr. Cary (1814)]
"Ho! Satan, ho! -- Ho! Satan, ho! -- alas!"
Plutus began with stammering accents hoarse.
[tr. Dayman (1843)]
"Pape Satan! pape Satan, aleppe!" began Plutus, with clucking voice.
[tr. Carlyle (1849)]
"Pape Satan! Pape Satan! Aleppe!"
Began then Pluto, with affrighted voice.
[tr. Bannerman (1850)]
"Papè Satan, papè Satan, aleppe,"
Plutus began with raucous voice to cry.
[tr. Johnston (1867)]
"Papë Satàn, Papë Satàn, Aleppë!"
Thus Plutus with his clucking voice began.
[tr. Longfellow (1867)]
"Pape Satan pape Satan aleppe," began Pluto with his clucking voice.
[tr. Butler (1885)]
"Ah, marvel, Satan! marvel, King of Hell!"
Pluto began with his hoarse strident shout.
[tr. Minchin (1885)]
“Pape Satan, pape Satan aleppe,” -- began Pluto with his clucking voice.
[tr. Norton (1892)]
"Pape Satan, pape Satan aleppe," Pluto began with grating voice.
[tr. Sullivan (1893)]
"Papè Satàn, papè Satàn, aleppè,"
Plutus with voice discordant made beginning.
[tr. Griffith (1908)]
“Pape Satan, Pape Satan, aleppe,”
began Plutus with clucking voice.
[tr. Sinclair (1939)]
"Pape Satan, aleppe, pape Satan!"
[...] Plutus thus with clucking noise began.
[tr. Binyon (1943)]
"Papè Satan, papè Satan aleppe,"
Pluto 'gan gabble with his clucking tongue.
[tr. Sayers (1949)]
"Papa Satán, Papa Satán, aleppy,"
Plutus clucked and stuttered in his rage.
[tr. Ciardi (1954)]
"Pape Satàn, pape Satàn aleppe!" Plutus began with a clucking voice.
[tr. Singleton (1970)]
"Pape Satàn, pape Satàn aleppe!"
the voice of Plutus clucked these words at us.
[tr. Musa (1971)]
"Papè Satan, papè Satan aleppé,"
Plutus began, in his raucous voice.
[tr. Sisson (1981)]
"Papè Satan, papè Satan, aleppe,"
Plutus began in a gutteral, clucking voice.
[tr. Pinsky (1994)]
"Pape Satàn, pape Satàn aleppe!" began Plutus with his clucking voice.
[tr. Durling (1996)]
"Pape Satan, pape Satan aleppe," Plutus, began to croak.
[tr. Kline (2002)]
"Popoi Satan, popoi Satan! Alezorul!"
So Plutus -- shrill voice clucking on -- began.
[tr. Kirkpatrick (2006)]
"Pape Satàn, Pape Satàn, aleppe!"
burst out Plutus in his raucous voice.
[tr. Hollander/Hollander (2007)]
"Satan's the Pope, Satan's the Pope, hurray!"
Plutus began, clucking like a mother hen.
[tr. Raffel (2010)]
"The Pope pops Satan, Satan pips the Pope,"
Plutus barked raucous nonsense.
[tr. James (2013)]
A serious and good philosophical work could be written consisting entirely of jokes.
Ludwig Wittgenstein (1889-1951) Austrian-English philosopher
Quoted in Norman Malcolm, Ludwig Wittgenstein: A Memoir (1958)
(Source)
This is usually presented as a direct quotation, but is perhaps a paraphrase. The full passage from Malcolm:
It is worth noting that Wittgenstein once said that a serious and good philosophical work could be written that would consist entirely of jokes (without being facetious).
When we are children we seldom think of the future. This innocence leaves us free to enjoy ourselves as few adults can. The day we fret about the future is the day we leave our childhood behind.
Patrick Rothfuss (b. 1973) American author
The Name of the Wind, ch. 12 “Puzzle Pieces Fitting” (2007)
(Source)
All the higher animals have methods of expressing pleasure, but human beings alone express pleasure when they do not feel it. This is called politeness and is reckoned among the virtues.
Bertrand Russell (1872-1970) English mathematician and philosopher
“On smiling,” New York American (1932-08-17)
(Source)
The neurotic feels like a Christmas shopper who keeps dropping his packages, and it’s raining.
Mignon McLaughlin (1913-1983) American journalist and author
The Neurotic’s Notebook, ch. 5 (1963)
(Source)
Looking back, you can usually find the moment of the birth of new era, whereas, when it happened, it was one day hooked on the tail of another.
Taught from infancy that beauty is woman’s sceptre, the mind shapes itself to the body, and roaming round its gilt cage, only seeks to adorn its prison.
Mary Wollstonecraft (1759-1797) English social philosopher, feminist, writer
A Vindication of the Rights of Woman, ch. 3 (1792)
(Source)
Fortunate pair!
If there be any power
within my poetry, no day shall ever
erase you from the memory of time.[Fortunati ambo! Siquid mea carmina possunt,
nulla dies umquam memori vos eximet aevo.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 9, l. 447ff (9.447-448) (29-19 BC) [tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 592ff]
(Source)
On the deaths of Nisus and Euryalus, lying after battle in each other's arms. The 9/11 Memorial and Museum in New York City (see image) uses a variant of this ("No day shall erase you from the memory of time"), though some have questioned the contextual propriety.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
O happy friends! for, if my verse can give
Immortal life, your fame shall ever live.
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Happy pair! if my verses can aught avail, no day shall ever erase you from the records of time.
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
Blest pair! if aught my verse avail,
No day shall make your memory fail.
[tr. Conington (1866)]
Ay, happy pair! If aught my verse can do,
No lapse of time shall ever dim your fame,
[tr. Cranch (1872), l. 551]
Happy pair! if my verse is aught of avail, no length of days shall ever blot you from the memory of time.
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
O happy twain, if anywise my song-craft may avail,
From out the memory of the world no day shall blot your tale.
[tr. Morris (1900)]
O happy pair! if aught my verse ensure,
No length of time shall make your memory wane,
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 57, ll. 510-11]
Heroic pair and blest! If aught I sing
have lasting music, no remotest age
shall blot your names from honor's storied scroll.
[tr. Williams (1910), l. 446ff]
Happy pair! If aught my verse avail, no day shall ever blot you from the memory of time.
[tr. Fairclough (1918)]
Fortunate boys!
If there is any power in my verses,
You will not be forgotten in time and story.
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
Ah, fortunate pair! if my poetry has any influence,
Time in its passing shall never obliterate your memory.
[tr. Day-Lewis (1952)]
Fortunate, both! If in the least my songs
Avail, no future day will ever take you
Out of the record of remembering Time.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 633ff]
Fortune has favored you both! If there is any power in my poetry, the day will never come when time will erase you from the memory of man.
[tr. West (1990)]
Happy pair! If my poetry has the power, [...]
no day will raze you from time’s memory.
[tr. Kline (2002)]
Happy pair,
If my poetry has any power
Never shall you be blotted from memory.
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]
How fortunate, both at once!
If my songs have any power, the day will never dawn
that wipes you from the memory of the ages.
[tr. Fagles (2006)]
Lucky pair! If my song has any power, no day will steal you from time's memory.
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]
I don’t care how smart you are, if you say something you are liable to say something foolish, and the smarter you are, and the longer you talk, the more foolish things you will say.
I like the man who faces what he must,
With steps triumphant and a heart of cheer;
Who fights the daily battle without fear.Sarah Knowles Bolton (1841-1916) American writer, poet, journalist, activist
“The Inevitable” (1895)
(Source)
Politeness does not always imply goodness, equity, obligingness and gratitude; it at least provides the appearance of these, and makes a man seem outwardly what he should be inwardly.
[La politesse n’inspire pas toujours la bonté, l’équité, la complaisance, la gratitude; elle en donne du moins les apparences, et fait paraître l’homme au dehors comme il devrait être intérieurement.]
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],” § 32 (5.32) (1688) [tr. Stewart (1970)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:
Politeness does not always inspire Generosity, Equity, Complaisance, and Gratitude: it gives a man the appearances of those Vertues, and makes him seem that without, which he ought to be within.
[Bullord ed. (1696)]
Politeness does not always inspire Generosity, Justice, Complaisance and Gratitude; it gives a Man the Appearances of those Virtues, and makes him seem that without, which he ought to be within.
[Curll ed. (1713)]
Politeness does not always produce kindness of heart, justice, complacency, or gratitude, but it gives to a man at least the appearance of it, and makes him seem externally what he really should be.
[tr. Van Laun (1885)]
Each man’s soul is a menagerie where Conscience, the animal-tamer, lives with a collection of wild beasts.
Austin O'Malley (1858-1932) American ophthalmologist, professor of literature, aphorist
Keystones of Thought (1914)
(Source)
Stories of our women leaving home to frisk
in mock ecstasies among the thickets on the mountain,
dancing in honor of the latest divinity,
a certain Dionysus, whoever he may be!
In their midst stand bowls brimming with wine.
And then, one by one, the women wander off
to hidden nooks where they serve the lusts of men.
Priestesses of Bacchus they claim they are,
but it’s really Aphrodite they adore.[γυναῖκας ἡμῖν δώματ᾽ ἐκλελοιπέναι
πλασταῖσι βακχείαισιν, ἐν δὲ δασκίοις
ὄρεσι θοάζειν, τὸν νεωστὶ δαίμονα
Διόνυσον, ὅστις ἔστι, τιμώσας χοροῖς:
πλήρεις δὲ θιάσοις ἐν μέσοισιν ἑστάναι
κρατῆρας, ἄλλην δ᾽ ἄλλοσ᾽ εἰς ἐρημίαν
πτώσσουσαν εὐναῖς ἀρσένων ὑπηρετεῖν,
πρόφασιν μὲν ὡς δὴ μαινάδας θυοσκόους,
τὴν δ᾽ Ἀφροδίτην πρόσθ᾽ ἄγειν τοῦ Βακχίου.]Euripides (485?-406? BC) Greek tragic dramatist
Bacchæ [Βάκχαι], l. 217ff [Pentheus/Πενθεύς] (405 BC) [tr. Arrowsmith (1960)]
(Source)
(Source (Greek)). Alternate translations:
Their homes
Our women have deserted, on pretence
That they in mystic orgies are engaged;
On the umbrageous hills they chant the praise
Of this new God, whoe'er he be, this Bacchus;
Him in their dances they revere, and place
Amid their ranks huge goblets fraught with wine:
Some fly to pathless deserts, where they meet
Their paramours, while they in outward shew
Are Mænedes by holy rites engrossed.
Yet Venus more than Bacchus they revere.
[tr. Wodhull (1809)]
The women have left our homes in contrived Bacchic rites, and rush about in the shadowy mountains, honoring with dances this new deity Dionysus, whoever he is. I hear that mixing-bowls stand full in the midst of their assemblies, and that they each creep off different ways into secrecy to serve the beds of men, on the pretext that they are Maenads worshipping; but they consider Aphrodite before Bacchus.
[tr. Buckley (1850)]
Our women all have left their homes, to join
These fabled mysteries. On the shadowy rocks
Frequent they sit, this God of yesterday,
Dionysus, whosoe'er he be, with revels
Dishonorable honoring. In the midst
Stand the crowned goblets; and each stealing forth,
This way and that, creeps to a lawless bed;
In pretext, holy sacrificing Mænads,
But serving Aphrodite more than Bacchus.
[tr. Milman (1865)]
Our women have deserted from their homes,
Pretending Bacchic rites, and now they lurk
In the shady hill-tops reverencing forsooth
This Dionysus, this new deity.
Full bowls of wine are served out to the throng;
And scattered here and there through the glades,
The wantons hurry to licentious love.
They call themselves the priestess Mænades;
Bacchus invoke, but Aphrodite serve.
[tr. Rogers (1872), l. 200ff]
I hear that our women-folk have left their homes on pretence of Bacchic rites, and on the wooded hills rush wildly to and fro, honouring in the dance this new god Dionysus, whoe’er he is; and in the midst of each revel-rout the brimming wine-bowl stands, and one by one they steal away to lonely spots to gratify their lust, pretending forsooth that they are Mænads bent on sacrifice, though it is Aphrodite they are placing before the Bacchic god.
[tr. Coleridge (1891)]
How from their homes our women have gone forth
Feigning a Bacchic rapture, and rove wild
O'er wooded hills, in dances honouring
Dionysus, this new God -- whoe'er he be.
And midst each revel-rout the wine-bowls stand
Brimmed: and to lonely nooks, some here, some there,
They steal, to work with men the deed of shame,
In pretext Maenad priestesses, forsooth,
But honouring Aphroditê more than Bacchus.
[tr. Way (1898)]
Our own
Wives, our own sisters, from their hearths are flown
To wild and secret rites; and cluster there
High on the shadowy hills, with dance and prayer
To adore this new-made God, this Dionyse,
Whate'er he be! -- And in their companies
Deep wine-jars stand, and ever and anon
Away into the loneliness now one
Steals forth, and now a second, maid or dame,
Where love lies waiting, not of God! The flame,
They say, of Bacchios wraps them. Bacchios! Nay,
'Tis more to Aphrodite that they pray.
[tr. Murray (1902)]
That our women have abandoned their homes
in fake bacchic revels, and in the deep-shaded
mountains are roaming around, honoring with dances
the new-made god Dionysus, whoever he is;
that wine-bowls are set among the sacred companies
full to the brim, and that one by one the women go crouching
into the wilderness, to serve the lechery of men --
they profess to be maenads making sacrifice,
but actually they put Aphrodite before the Bacchic god.
[tr. Kirk (1970)]
Our women, I discover, have abandoned their homes on some pretence of Bacchic worship, and go gadding about in the woods on the mountain side, dancing in honour of this upstart god Dionysus, whoever he may be. They tell me, in the midst of each group of revellers stands a bowl full of wine; and the women go creeping off this way and that to lonely places and there give themselves to lecherous men, under the excuse that they are Maenad priestesses; though in their ritual Aphrodite comes before Bacchus.
[tr. Vellacott (1973)]
They leave their home, desert their children
Follow the new fashion and join the Bacchae
Flee the hearth to mob the mountains -- those contain
Deep shadows of course, secret caves to hide
Lewd games for this new god -- Dionysos!
That's the holy spirit newly discovered.
Dionysos! Their ecstasy is flooded down
In brimming bowls of wine -- so much for piety!
Soused, with all the senses roused, they crawl
Into the bushes and there of course a man
Awaits them. All part of the service for for this
Mysterious deity. The hypocrisy? All they care about
Is getting serviced.
[tr. Soyinka (1973)]
Our women gone, abandoning their homes,
pretending to be bacchae, massing
in the bushy mountains, this latest divinity
Dionysos (whoever he is) honouring and chorusing,
filling and setting amidst the thiasus
wine-bowls, and one by one in solitude
sneaking off to cater to male bidding, --
supposedly as sacrificial maenads,
but Aphrodite ranks before their Bacchic One.
[tr. Neuburg (1988)]
Our women, I am told, have left their homes,
in a religious trance -- what travesty! --
and scamper up and down the wooded mountains, dancing
in honor of this newfangled God, Dionysus,
whoever he might be.
In the middle of each female group
of revelers, I hear,
stands a jar of wine, brimming! And that taking turns,
they steal away, one here, one there, to shady nooks,
where they satisfy the lechery of men,
pretending to be priestesses,
performing their religious duties. Ha!
That performance reeks more of Aphrodite than of Bacchus.
[tr. Cacoyannis (1982)]
Our women have abandoned our homes
And, in a jacked-up frenzy of phony inspiration,
Riot in the dark mountains,
Honoring this upstart god, Dionysos --
Whatever he is -- dancing in his chorus.
Full jugs of wine stand in their midst
And each woman slinks off
To the wilderness to serve male lust,
Pretending they are praying priestesses,
But Aphrodite leads them, not Bacchus.
[tr. Blessington (1993)]
Our women have abandoned their homes
for the sham revelries of Bacchus
frisking about on the dark-shadowed mountains
honoring with their dances the latest god, Dionysius, whoever he is.
They've set up their mixing bowls brimming with wine
amidst their cult gatherings, and each lady slinks off in a different direction
to some secluded wilderness to service the lusts of men.
They pretend to be maenads performing sacrifices
but in reality they rank Aphrodite's pleasures before Bacchus!
[tr. Esposito (1998)]
These women of ours have left their homes
and run away to the dark mountains, pretending
to be Bacchants. It's this brand-new god,
Dionysus, whoever that is; they're dancing for him!
They gather in throngs around full bowls
of wine; then one by one they sneak away
to lonely places where they sleep with men.
Priestesses they call themselves! Maenads!
It's Aphrodite they put first, not Bacchus.
[tr. Woodruff (1999)]
Women leave
Our houses for bogus revels (“Bakkhic” indeed!),
Dashing through the dark shade of mountain forests
To honor with their dancing this new god,
Dionysos -- whoever he may be --
And right in their midst they set full bowls of wine,
And slink into the thickets to meet men there,
Saying they are maenads sacrificing
When they really rank Aphrodite first,
Over Bakkhos!
[tr. Gibbons/Segal (2000)]
The women have left our homes in fictitious ecstatic rites and flit about on the thick-shaded mountains, honoring the new god Dionysus, whoever he is, with their dancing. They set up full wine bowls in the middle of their assembles and sneak off, one here, one there, to tryst in private with men. The pretext for all of this is that they are maenads, performing their rites, but they hold Aphrodite in higher regard than the bacchic god.
[tr. Kovacs (2002)]
I hear our women have flown from their proper place in the home -- dancing about in the shadowy hills in sham ecstasy for this newfound Dionysus! And these wine-befuddled women slink into the darkness, drawn by the sirens of lust. Fine high priestesses of the new god! They seem to make more worship of Aphrodite than of Bacchus!
[tr. Rao/Wolf (2004)]
I heard that our women have left their homes and gone off to the mountains dancing the Bacchic dances! Some new, young god! Utter rubbish! There they are, placing great tubs full of wine in the centre of their group, in the middle of nowhere and off they go, one here, another there, rolling around with any man they come across and giving the excuse that they are maenads; but what are they doing? Serving Dionysos? No way! They’re serving Aphrodite!
[tr. Theodoridis (2005)]
The women have left us, abandoning their homes in
phony Bacchic worship and that they gad about on
the bushy mountaintops; that this "new" god Dio-
nysus, whoever he really is, is honoured in their dances,
and that they set the sacred wine-bowls, fill'd, in the
midst of the thiasoi, each slinking off her sep'rate
way to serve males' hot lust in the woods, pre-
tending to be Maenads sacrificing; and so
they place Aphrodite on top of Bacchus.
[tr. Valerie (2005)]
... women leaving home
to go to silly Bacchic rituals,
cavorting there in mountain shadows,
with dances honoring some upstart god,
this Dionysus, whoever he may be. Mixing bowls
in the middle of their meetings filled with wine,
they creep off one by one to lonsely spots
to have sex with men, claiming they're Maenads
busy worshipping. But they rank Aphrodite,
goddess of sexual desire, ahead of Bacchus.
[tr. Johnston (2008), l. 272ff]
Women have deserted their homes for these
fraudulent rites -- up in the woods and mountains,
dancing to celebrate some new god --
Dionysus, whoever he is.
Drink is at the bottom of it all.
Huge bowls stand in their midst, I'm told,
brimming with wine, and one by one the women
slip into the shadows to satisfy the lusts of men.
They say they are priestesses, sworn to Bacchus,
but it's clearly Aphrodite they adore.
[tr. Robertson (2014)]
Women have forsaken their homes. It’s a front, it’s a fake, a false Bacchic rite, an excuse for them to cavort in the mountain’s shade, dancing to honor this "new god" Dionysus.
Whoever that is. Whoever he really is.
I hear they’ve got casks of wine up there, full to the brim, just sitting there in the midst of their frolicking. And that they sneak off into secluded corners, servicing men, excusing it as a sacred thing, a Maenad’s ritual.
If it is a ritual, it’s to Aphrodite, not this Bacchus of theirs.
[tr. Pauly (2019)]
How our women
had run off
to celebrate
perferse rites
in the mountains,
roaming about with this
brand new god, Dionysus --
whoever he is.
Everywhere
in the midst of their revels
stand full wine bowls.
And women slink off
one by one
to copulate
with any man
who happens by.
They pretend to be Maenads, priestesses.
It's Aphrodite,
not Bacchus,
they worship.
[tr. Behr/Foster (2019)]
Our women have left our homes in contrived Bacchic rites, and rush about in the shadowy mountains, honoring with khoroi this new daimōn Dionysus, whoever he is. I hear that mixing-bowls stand full in the midst of their assemblies, and that each woman, flying to secrecy in different directions, yields to the embraces of men, on the pretext that they are Maenads worshipping. They consider Aphrodite of greater priority than Dionysus.
[tr. Buckley/Sens/Nagy (2020)]
War is nothing but a duel on a larger scale. Countess duels go to make up a war, but a picture of it as a whole can be formed by imagining a pair of wrestlers. Each tries through physical force to compel the other to do his will; his immediate aim is to throw his opponent in order to make him incapable of further resistance. War is thus an act of force to compel the enemy to do our will.
[Der Krieg ist nichts als ein erweiterter Zweikampf. Wollen wir uns die Unzahl der einzelnen Zweikämpfe, aus denen er besteht, als Einheit denken, so tun wir besser, uns zwei Ringende vorzustellen. Jeder sucht den anderen durch physische Gewalt zur Erfüllung seines Willens zu zwingen; sein nächster Zweck ist, den Gegner niederzuwerfen und dadurch zu jedem ferneren Widerstand unfähig zu machen. Der Krieg ist also ein Akt der Gewalt, um den Gegner zur Erfüllung unseres Willens zu zwingen.]
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?],” § 2 (1.1.2) (1832) [tr. Howard & Paret (1976)]
(Source)
(Source (German)). Alternate translations:
War is nothing but a duel on an extensive scale. If we would conceive as a unit the countless number of duels which make up a war, we shall do so best by supposing to ourselves two wrestlers. Each strives by physical force to compel the other to submit to his will: his first object is to throw his adversary, and thus to render him incapable of further resistance. War therefore is an act of violence to compel our opponent to fulfil our will.
[tr. Graham (1873)]
War is nothing but a duel on a larger scale. If we would combine into one conception the countless separate duels of which it consists, we would do well to think of two wrestlers. Each tries by physical force to compel the other to do his will; his immediate object is to overthrow his adversary and thereby make him incapable of any further resistance. War is thus an act of force to compel our adversary to do our will.
[tr. Jolles (1943)]
Parents should work together as efficiently as two bookends.
Marcelene Cox (1900-1998) American writer, columnist, aphorist
“Ask Any Woman” column, Ladies’ Home Journal (1957-08)
(Source)
Violent zeal for truth has a hundred to one odds to be either petulancy, ambition, or pride.
I do not claim any ability to read God’s mind. I am sure of only one thing. When we look at the glory of stars and galaxies in the sky and the glory of forests and flowers in the living world around us, it is evident that God loves diversity. Perhaps the universe is constructed according to a principle of maximum diversity.
Freeman Dyson (1923-2020) English-American theoretical physicist, mathematician, futurist
“Progress in Religion,” Templeton Prize acceptance speech, Washington National Cathedral (9 May 2000)
(Source)
The object of what we call deportment and good manners is to attain that which can otherwise be attained only by force or not even by force.
[Durch das, was wir Betragen und gute Sitten nennen, soll das erreicht werden, was außerdem nur durch Gewalt, oder auch nicht einmal durch Gewalt zur erreichen ist.]
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832) German poet, statesman, scientist
Elective Affinities [Die Wahlverwandtschaften], Part 2, ch. 5, “From Ottilie’s Journal [Aus Ottiliens Tagebuche]” (1809) [tr. Hollingdale (1971)]
(Source)
(Source (German)). Alternate translation:
That which we call politeness and good breeding effects what otherwise can only be obtained by violence, or not even that.
[Niles ed. (1872)]
I have no desire to make mysteries, but it is impossible at the moment of action to enter into long and complex explanations.
Arthur Conan Doyle (1859-1930) British writer and physician
“The Dancing Men” [Sherlock Holmes], The Strand Magazine (Dec 1903)
(Source)
Reprinted as "The Adventure of the Dancing Men" in The Return of Sherlock Holmes, ch. 3 (1905).
If you’re not careful, the newspapers will have you hating the people who are being oppressed, and loving the people who are doing the oppressing.
Malcolm X (1925-1965) American revolutionary, religious leader [b. Malcolm Little]
Speech, Audubon Ballroom, Harlem, New York (13 Dec 1964)
(Source)
Adapt or perish, now as ever, is Nature’s inexorable imperative.
H.G. Wells (1866-1946) British writer [Herbert George Wells]
Mind at the End of Its Tether, ch. 4 “Recent Realizations of the Nature of Life” (1945)
(Source)
“Master,” said I, “this woe —
Will it grow less, or still more fiercely burning
With the Great Sentence, or remain just so?”
“Go to,” said he, “hast thou forgot they learning,
Which hath it: The more perfect, the more keen,
Whether for pleasure’s or for pain’s discerning?
Though true perfection never can be seen
In these damned souls, they’ll be more near complete
After the Judgement than they yet have been.”[Per ch’io dissi: “Maestro, esti tormenti
crescerann’ei dopo la gran sentenza,
o fier minori, o saran sì cocenti?”.
Ed elli a me: “Ritorna a tua scïenza,
che vuol, quanto la cosa è più perfetta,
più senta il bene, e così la doglienza.
Tutto che questa gente maladetta
in vera perfezion già mai non vada,
di là più che di qua essere aspetta”.]Dante Alighieri (1265-1321) Italian poet
The Divine Comedy [Divina Commedia], Book 1 “Inferno,” Canto 6, l. 103ff (6.103-111) (1320) [tr. Sayers (1949)]
(Source)
Virgil informs Dante that, according to the "science" of Aristotle and Thomas Aquinas, the souls of the dead, reunited with their bodies at the Last Judgment, will be more "perfect," and thus will more perfectly feel the joy of Heaven, or the torments of Hell.
(Source (Italian)). Alternate translations:
Master, I said; When the grand Sentence 's pass'd,
Will an increase of punishment ensue,
Or will't continue thus, or less become.
Return to your Philosophy, he said,
By which you're taught, that the more perfect are
More sensible of good, as well as ill.
And this unhappy Crew expect not e'er
That they at true perfection shall arrive;
But that their Suff'rings will be more severe
After the dreadful Sentence than before.
[tr. Rogers (1782), l. 98ff]
Then I, "Shall equal plagues the damn'd await;
Shall Hell increase her torments, or abate,
When the last change their final sentence brings?"
"Let Science solve the doubt," the Bard rejoin'd,
"The body married to th' immortal mind,
Or higher transport feels, or fiercer woe:
Then th' ignoble brethren of the sty,
When the last clarion shakes the faulted sky,
Shall feel theri pains sublim'd, their tortures grow."
[tr. Boyd (1802), st. 9-10]
For thus I question’d: “Shall these tortures, Sir!
When the great sentence passes, be increas’d,
Or mitigated, or as now severe?”
He then: “Consult thy knowledge; that decides
That as each thing to more perfection grows,
It feels more sensibly both good and pain.
Though ne’er to true perfection may arrive
This race accurs’d, yet nearer then than now
They shall approach it.”
[tr. Cary (1814)]
For thus I asked him: "Shall these torments rage,
The judgment past, with fury more intense,
Or such as now, or of their heat assuage?"
Who answered: "Get thee to thy wisdom, whence
'Tis taught, the creature ot perfection nigher
Of good and eke of ill hath keener sense.
Albeit this cursed race may ne'er aspire
The true perfeoction of their kind to feel,
Yet lower scale expect they not, but higher."
[tr. Dayman (1843)]
Wherefore I said: "Master, shall these torments increase after the great Sentence, or grow less, or remain as burning?"
And he to me: "Return to they science, which has it, that the more a thing is perfect, the more it feels pleasure and likewise pain.
Though these accursed people never attain to true perfection, yet they [look to] be nearer it after than before." [tr. Carlyle (1849)]
It was the reason why I said, "Master!
When the grand sentence is past, is the pain
Increased or lessened, or do these remain?"
And he said to me, "What doth thy science teach?
Whatever thing is perfect's more endued
To feel the evil, to perceive the good:
To perfect misery will noi they attain,
The accursed race who suffer in this sphere,
But nearer then than now they will appear."
[tr. Bannerman (1850)]
And then I said -- "These torments, master, say,
Will they increase after the awful doom,
Or become less? Will they be sharp as now?"
Then he to me -- "Unto thy science turn,
Which teaches, the more perfect be the thing,
It knows the good, it feels the suffering more.
Although this multitude accurs'd may not
Unto the true perfection ever come,
After, rather than now, they look for it."
[tr. Johnston (1867)]
Wherefore I said: "Master, these torments here,
Will they increase after the mighty sentence,
Or lesser be, or will they be as burning?"
And he to me: "Return unto thy science,
Which wills, that as the thing more perfect is,
The more it feels of pleasure and of pain.
Albeit that this people maledict
To true perfection never can attain,
Hereafter more than now they look to be."
[tr. Longfellow (1867)]
Wherefore I said: "Master, these torments, will they increase after the great sentence, or become less, or be as scorching?" And he to me: "Return to thy science, which holds, in proportion as the thing is more perfect, it is more conscious of the good, and so of suffering. Albeit this accursed folk may never go on to true perfection, it expects to be more on the further than on the hither side."
[tr. Butler (1885)]
Wherefore I said; "O master, I would know
Whether these torments after the great day
Will lessen, keep as now, or fiercer grow?"
And he to me: "Thy science here essay,
Which wills that more a thing is perfect nursed,
The more it feels both good and evil sway.
And though in truth this people, all accursed,
With true perfection never can be dight,
Then, more than now, it looks to feel the worst."
[tr. Minchin (1885)]
Wherefore I said, “Master, these torments will they increase after the great sentence, or will they become less, or will they be just as burning?” And he to me, “Return to thy science, which declares that the more perfect a thing is the more it feels the good, and so the pain. Though this accursed people never can attain to true perfection, it expects thereafter to be more than now.”
[tr. Norton (1892)]
Wherefore I said: "Master, these tortures, will they increase when the great doom is spoken, or will they lessen, or continue as galling as before?" And he made answer to me: "Go back upon the science thou hast read, which would have us believe that the more a thing is perfect, the more it feeleth pleasure, and likewise pain. Though these cursed souls may never come to true perfection, yet do they hope thereafter to attain it more than now."
[tr. Sullivan (1893)]
And thereupon I said: "Master, these torments,
Will they increase after the last great sentence,
Or lesser grow, or will they be as poignant?"
And he to me : "Return unto thy science,
Which hath it that, the more a thing is perfect,
More hath it sense of good, and so of dolour.
So, notwithstanding that this folk accursed
Never advances unto true perfection,
Yet more on that side than on this it looks for."
[tr. Griffith (1908)]
I said therefore: "Master, will these torments increase after the great judgment, or become less, or continue as fiece as now?" And he answered me, "Go back to thy science, which requires that in the measure of a creature's perfection it feels more both of pleasure and of pain. Although these people who are accursed never come to true perfection, they look to be completer then than now."
[tr. Sinclair (1939)]
Wherefore I said: "Master, these pangs of woe --
Shall they be increased after the great Assize
Or stay scorching as now, or lesser grow?"
And he: "Turn to thy science and be wise.
The more a thing perfected is, the more
it feels bliss, and in pain the sharper sighs.
Although the state of these accurst at core
Never indeed in true perfection ends,
They look then to be nearer than before."
[tr. Binyon (1943)]
"Master," I said, "when the great clarion fades
into the voice of thundering Omniscience,
what of these agonies? Will they be the same,
or more, or less, after the final sentence?"
And he to me: "Look to your science again
where it is written: the more a thing is perfect
the more it feels of pleasure and of pain.
As for these souls, though they can never soar
to true perfection, still in the new time
they will be nearer than they were before.
[tr. Ciardi (1954), l. 99ff]
Wherefore I said, "Master, these torments, will they increase after the great Judgment, or will they grow less, or will they be just as burning as now?"
And he to me, "Return to your science, which has it that the more a thing is perfect, the more it feels the good, and so the pain. Although this accursed folk can never come to true perfection, yet they look to be nearer it then than now."
[tr. Singleton (1970)]
I said, "Master, will these torments be increased,
or lessened, on the final Judgment Day,
or will the pain be just the same as now?"
And he: "Remember your philosophy:
the closer a thing comes to its perfection
more keen will be its pleasure or its pain.
Although this cursèd race of punished souls
shall never know the joy of true perfection,
more perfect will their pain be then than now."
[tr. Musa (1971)]
At which I said: "And after the great sentence --
o master -- will these torments grow, or else
be less, or will they be just as intense?"
And he to me: "Remember now your science,
which said that when a thing has more perfection,
so much the great is its pain or pleasure.
Though these accursed sinners never shall
attain the true perfection, yet they can
expect to be more perfect then than now."
[tr. Mandelbaum (1980)]
So I said to him: "Master, will these torments
Grow greater still after the great sentence,
Will they be less, or burn as they burn now?"
His answer to me was: "Go back to your science,
Which teaches that the more perfect a thing is,
The more it feels pleasure, and pain as well.
Although these people, because they are accursed,
Will never reach the point of true perfection,
They expect to approach it more nearly afterwards."
[tr. Sisson (1981)]
"Master, these torments -- tell me, will they increase
After the Judgment, or lessen, or merely endure,
Burning as much as now?" He said, "In this,
Go back to your science, which teaches that the more
A creature is perfect, the more it perceives the good --
and likewise, pain. The accursed people here
Can never come to true perfection; instead
They can expect to come closer then than now."
[tr. Pinsky (1994), l. 94ff]
So I said: "Master, these torments, will they grow after the great Judgment, or will they be less, or equally hot?"
And he to me: "Return to your philosophy, which teaches that the more perfect a thing is, the more it feels what is good, and the same for pain.
Even though these cursed people will never enter into true perfection, on that side they can expect to have more being than on this."
[tr. Durling (1996)]
Of this I asked: "Master, will these torments increase, after the great judgement, or lessen, or stay as fierce?" And he to me: "Remember your science, that says, that the more perfect a thing is, the more it feels pleasure and pain. Though these accursed ones will never achieve true perfection, they will be nearer to it after, than before."
[tr. Kline (2002)]
Concerning which, "These torments, sir," I said,
"when judgement has been finally proclaimed --
will these increase or simmer just the same?"
"Return," he said, "to your first principles:
when anything (these state) becomes more perfect,
then all the more it feels both good and pain.
Albeit these accursed men will not
achieve perfection full and true, they still,
beyond that Day, will come to sharper life."
[tr. Kirkpatrick (2006)]
"Master," I asked, "after the great Judgment
will these torments be greater, less,
or will they stay as harsh as they are now?"
And he replied: "Return to your science,
which has it that, in measure of a thing's perfection,
it feels both more of pleasure and of pain.
Although these accursèd people
will never come to true perfection,
they will be nearer it than they are now."
[tr. Hollander/Hollander (2007)]
And I asked: "Master these punishments,
Will they grow, after the great and Final Judgment,
Or lesson, or burn exactly as we've seen them?"
He answered: Go back to the rules of science, which you know
Declare perfection will grow more perfec tiwth time,
And as it is in Heaven, so too below.
Although these wicked souls will never climb
To Heaven, I think they may come closer, perhaps,
Than they are now, in the state and place we find them."
[tr. Raffel (2010)]
"After the end,
What starts?" I asked. "Will all those who have earned
Their place down here feel less pain from the Day
Of Judgement on, or just the same, or more?"
And he to me: "What does your science say?
The more a thing's more perfect than before
The more it takes delight or feel despair?
Although these damned will never know a true
Perfection, they;ll be closer to it there,
Beyond that Day. So: much more than they do
Must be the answer to your question."
[tr. James (2013)]
In fact ignorance of law leads to more lawsuits than knowledge of it.
[Potius ignoratio iuris litigiosa est quam scientia.]
Marcus Tullius Cicero (106-43 BC) Roman orator, statesman, philosopher
De Legibus [On the Laws], Book 1, ch. 5 (1.6) / sec. 18 [Marcus] (c. 51 BC) [tr. Zetzel (1999)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
It is not so much the science of law that produces litigation, as the ignorance of it.
[tr. Barham (1842), Barham/Yonge (1878)]
The litigious spirit is more often found with ignorance than with knowledge of law.
[ed. Harbottle (1906)]
For it is rather ignorance of the law than knowledge of it that leads to litigation.
[tr. Keyes (1928)]
Ignorance rather than knowledge of the law leads to litigation.
[tr. Rudd (1998)]
Do the gods light this fire in our hearts
or does each man’s mad desire become his god?[Dine hunc ardorem mentibus addunt,
Euryale, an sua cuique deus fit dira cupido?]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 9, l. 184ff (9.184-185) [Nisus] (29-19 BC) [tr. Fagles (2006)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Or do the gods inspire
This warmth, or make we gods of our desire?
[tr. Dryden (1697)]
Do the gods, Euryalus, infuse this ardour into our minds? or is each one's earnest inclination his god?
[tr. Davidson/Buckley (1854)]
"Can it be Heaven" said Nisus then
"That lends such warmth to hearts of men,
Or passion surging past control
That plays the god to each one's soul?"
[tr. Conington (1866)]
Is it the gods who give
This ardor to our minds, Euryalus?
And must our strong desires be deemed divine?
[tr. Cranch (1872), l. 230ff]
Lend the gods this fervour to the soul, Euryalus? or does fatal passion become a proper god to each?
[tr. Mackail (1885)]
Doth very God so set the heart on fire,
Euryalus, or doth each man make God of his desire?
[tr. Morris (1900)]
Is it that the Gods inspire,
Euryalus, this fever of the breast?
[tr. Taylor (1907), st. 24, l. 208ff]
Is it gods above that breathe
this fever in my soul, Euryalus?
or is the tyrant passion of each breast
the god it serves?
[tr. Williams (1910)]
Do the gods, Euryalus, put this fire in our hearts, or does his own wild longing become to each man a god?
[tr. Fairclough (1918)]
Euryalus, what is it?
Do the gods put this ardor in our hearts
Or does each man’s desire become his god?
[tr. Humphries (1951)]
Is it God that makes one burn to do brave things,
Or does each of us make a god of his own fierce passion to do them?
[tr. Day-Lewis (1952)]
Euryalus, is it
the gods who put this fire in our minds,
or is it that each man's relentless longing
becomes a god to him?
[tr. Mandelbaum (1971), l. 243ff]
This urge to action, do the gods instill it,
Or is each man's desire a god to him,
Euryalus?
[tr. Fitzgerald (1981), l. 252ff]
Is it the gods who put this ardour into our minds, or does every man's irresistible desire become his god?
[tr. West (1990)]
Euryalus, do the gods set this fire in our hearts,
or does each man’s fatal desire become godlike to him?
[tr. Kline (2002)]
Do the gods
Put this fire in our hearts, Euryalus,
Or do our passions become our gods?
[tr. Lombardo (2005)]
Do gods enflame our hearts, Euryalus,
or do our fierce desires become our gods?
[tr. Bartsch (2021)]