Since I do not admit that a person without bias exists, I think the best that can be done with a large-scale history is to admit one’s bias and for dissatisfied readers to look for other writers to express an opposite bias. Which bias is nearer to the truth must be left to posterity.
Bertrand Russell (1872-1970) English mathematician and philosopher
Autobiography, ch. 13 (1968)
(Source)
All who strive to live for something beyond mere selfish aims find their capacities for doing good very inadequate to their aspirations. They do so much less than they want to do, and so much less than they, at the outset, expected to do, that their lives, viewed retrospectively, inevitably look like failure.
Lydia Maria Child (1802-1880) American abolitionist, activist, journalist, suffragist
Letter to John Fraser (1868)
(Source)
His mother was the high priestess. It was her right to go first. To begin the killing, and so she threw herself at him.
He tore the headband from his head so that she would recognize him — oh, poor Agave — to stop her from killing him.
He touched her face and said:
It’s me, mother.
It’s me. Your son, it’s Pentheus.
You had me in Echion’s house.
Mercy, mother, please. I know I messed up, please, please don’t kill me, don’t kill your son —[πρώτη δὲ μήτηρ ἦρξεν ἱερέα φόνου
καὶ προσπίτνει νιν: ὃ δὲ μίτραν κόμης ἄπο
ἔρριψεν, ὥς νιν γνωρίσασα μὴ κτάνοι
τλήμων Ἀγαύη, καὶ λέγει, παρηίδος
ψαύων: Ἐγώ τοι, μῆτερ, εἰμί, παῖς σέθεν
Πενθεύς, ὃν ἔτεκες ἐν δόμοις Ἐχίονος:
οἴκτιρε δ᾽ ὦ μῆτέρ με, μηδὲ ταῖς ἐμαῖς
ἁμαρτίαισι παῖδα σὸν κατακτάνῃς.]Euripides (485?-406? BC) Greek tragic dramatist
Bacchæ [Βάκχαι], l. 1114ff [Messenger/Ἄγγελος] (405 BC) [tr. Pauly (2019)]
(Source)
Pentheus' servant, describing how the Bacchantes, led by King Pentheus' mother, Agave, turned on the king after discovering him, disguised, watching them. (Source (Greek)). Alternate translations:
His wretched Mother, like a Priestess,
Began the sacrifice; he threw the cawl
From his dishevel'd hair, that she her Son
Might recognise, nor in his gore imbrue
Her ruthless hands: he touch'd her cheeks and cried;
"I am, I am, O Mother, your own Son,
That Pentheus whom beneath Echion's roof
You bore, take pity on me then, nor slay
Your guilty child."
[tr. Wodhull (1809)]
His mother, as priestess, began the slaughter, and fell upon him. He threw the headband from his head so that the wretched Agave might recognize and not kill him. Touching her cheek, he said: “It is I, mother, your son, Pentheus, whom you bore in the house of Echion. Pity me, mother, and do not kill me, your child, for my sins.”
[tr. Buckley (1850)]
His mother first began the sacrifice,
And fell on him. His bonnet from his hair
He threw, that she might know and so not slay him,
The sad Agave. And he said, her cheek
Fondling, "I am thy child, thine own, my mother!
Pentheus, whom in Echion's house you bare.
Have mercy on me, mother! For his sins,
Whatever be his sins, kill not thy son."
[tr. Milman (1865)]
His mother first essayed the sacrifice
And fell on him: then from his hair he tore
The Phrygian bonnet, that Agave might
Know him and slay him not. Fondling her cheek
He said, I, mother, look, I am thy child,
Pentheus, born from thee in Echion's house;
Alas! my mother, do not kill thy son
For his transgression, pity take on me.
[tr. Rogers (1872), l. 1070ff]
His mother first, a priestess for the nonce, began the bloody deed and fell upon him; whereon he tore the snood from off his hair, that hapless Agave might recognize and spare him, crying as he touched her cheek, “O mother! it is I, thy own son Pentheus, the child thou didst bear in Echion’s halls; have pity on me, mother dear! oh! do not for any sin of mine slay thy own son.”
[tr. Coleridge (1891)]
His mother first, priest-like, began the slaughter,
And fell on him: but from his hair the coif
He tore, that she might know and slay him not, --
Hapless Agavê! -- and he touched her cheek,
Crying, "'Tis I -- O mother! -- thine own son
Pentheus -- thou bar'st me in Echion's halls!
Have mercy, O my mother! -- for my sin
Murder not thou thy son -- thy very son!"
[tr. Way (1898)]
'Twas his mother stood
O'er him, first priestess of those rites of blood.
He tore the coif, and from his head away
Flung it, that she might know him, and not slay
To her own misery. He touched the wild
Cheek, crying: "Mother, it is I, thy child,
Thy Pentheus, born thee in Echion's hall!
Have mercy, Mother! Let it not befall
Through sin of mine, that thou shouldst slay thy son!"
[tr. Murray (1902)]
His own mother,
like a priestess with her victim, fell upon him
first. But snatching off his wig and snood
so she would recognize his face, he touched her cheeks,
screaming, "No, no, Mother! I am Pentheus,
your own son, the child you bore to Echion!
Pity me, spare me, Mother! I have done a wrong,
but do not kill your own son for my offense."
[tr. Arrowsmith (1960)]
First his mother started the slaughter as priestess
and falls upon him; he hurled away the snood
from his hair, for the wretched Agaue to recognize
and not kill him -- and says, touching
her cheek, “Look, it is I, mother, your child
Pentheus, whom you bore in the house of Echion!
Take pity on me, mother, and do not by reason of my
errors murder your own child!”
[tr. Kirk (1970)]
First his mother, as priestess, began the ritual of death, and fell upon him. He tore off the headband from his hair, that his wretched mother might recognize him and not kill him. "Mother!" he cried, touching her cheek, "it is I, your son, Pentheus, whom you bore to Echion. O mother, have mercy on me; I have sinned, but I am your son: do not kill me!"
[tr. Vellacott (1973)]
His mother
First at the sacrifice of her own son
Fell upon him, angry priestess at the rites of death.
Pentheus, still miraculously alive, tore off wig
And snood, touched her face and hoped for recognition.
He mouthed a last despairing plea in silence, his voice
Broken from the fall.
[tr. Soyinka (1973)]
First came his mother, high priestess of the murder,
and fell upon him, while he threw the ribbon
from his hair so she might recognize him and not kill him,
poor Agave, touching her cheek and saying:
It’s me, mother, me, your son
Pentheus, whom you gave birth to in Echion’s house;
take pity on me, mother, and for my
trespassing do not kill your own son.
[tr. Neuburg (1988)]
His mother,
as priestess of the ritual killing,
was first to fall upon him.
He stripped his head, tore everything away,
hoping that Agave, wretched woman,
would know him and not kill him.
He touched her cheeks and cried:
"No, Mother, no, it is I,
your child, your Pentheus, born to you in Echion's house!
Have pity on me, Mother, I have wronged
but do not kill your son for my offense, not me, your son!"
[tr. Cacoyannis (1982)]
First Agaue, priestess of the kill, began
And fell upon him. He stripped his mitre
From his head, so poor Agaue would know
And not kill him, and said touching
Her cheek, “It’s me, mother, your child
Pentheus, whom you bore in Echion’s house.
Pity me, mother, don’t murder
Me, your son, for my sins!”
[tr. Blessington (1993)]
It was his own mother who first, as sacred priestess, began the slaughter
and falls upon him. He threw the headband from his hair
hoping that the wretched Agae, recognizing her son, might not kill him.
Touching her cheek, he spoke:
"It is I, mother, your son
Pentheus to whom you gave birth in the house of Echion.
Take pity, mother, and do not,
Because of my errors, kill your son."
[tr. Esposito (1998)]
His mother was the first at the killing. She was priestess,
and she rushed to attack him. He tore off his headband
in hopes she would recognize him, not kill him.
He reached out to her cheek, miserable Agavê’s,
and said, “I am yours, Mother, your child Pentheus.
You gave me birth in the house of Echion.
Pity me, Mother. I have made mistakes.
But do not kill your own son because of them.”
[tr. Woodruff (1999)]
As priestess, to begin the slaughter. She
Falls on him and he tears the headband from
His hair so that wretched Agaué will
Recognize him, not kill him, and he touches
Her cheek as he begins to say to her,
“Mother, it’s Pentheus, your child! It’s me!
You gave birth to me in Ekhion’s house.
Have pity on me, Mother! Don’t kill me
For my wrongdoing!”
[tr. Gibbons/Segal (2000), l. 1262ff]
His mother was the priestess and began the killing, hurling herself upon him. He, however, wrenched the headdress from his hair so that poor Agave would recognize him and not kill him. He put his hand to her cheek and said, "It's me, mother, Pentheus, the son you bore in Echion's house! Have pity on me, mother! I have sinned, but do not kill your own son!"
[tr. Kovacs (2002)]
His mother was the first to fall on him,
Frantically, from his face, he pulled his shawl
So that she might recognize him,
He touched her cheek, he implored her,
"It is me, mother, your son, Pentheus,
Pentheus whom you bore to Echion.
Have mercy, mother, do not kill me,
For all that I've done wrong, I'm still your son."
[tr. Teevan (2002)]
The first to fall on him was his own mother! [...] Pentheus pulled his robe aside so that she could see his face, and cried, "Mother! It is I, your Pentheus, born from your own womb! Have mercy, mother. Let it not come to pass that my sins cause you to slay your son!"
[tr. Rao/Wolf (2004)]
First it was his mother, Dionysos’ priestess. She started the slaughter. She jumped upon him with anger and he took the ribbon from his head so that his mother would recognize him and spare him and patted her cheek softly. “It’s me, mother,” he said, “your son, Pentheus. You gave birth to me, mother, in Echion’s palace! Have pity on me, mother! Don’t kill me, don’t kill your son just because he’s made a mistake.”
[tr. Theodoridis (2005)]
His own mother presided as priestess of the
slaughter and started first by falling upon him; and he threw his
sash from off of his hair so that poor, wretched Agave might
recognize, instead of kill, him.
And he says to her, reaching out for her cheek, "It's me mother, your son
Pentheus, who you bore to Echion.
Have mercy on me mother please: don't kill your own son
because of his mistakes."
[tr. Valerie (2005)]
She hurled herself at him. Pentheus tore off
his headband, untying it from his head,
so wretched Agave would recognize him,
so she wouldn't kill him. Touching he cheek,
he cried out, "It's me, mother, Pentheus,
your child. You gave birth to me at home,
in Echion's house. Pity me, mother --
Don't kill your child because I've made mistakes."
[tr. Johnston (2008), l. 1383ff]
His own mother,
like a priestess with her sacrifice, fell on him first.
But he snatched off his head-dress and wig
so she could see who he was.
He reached out his hand to touch her cheek
And cried out: "Mother! Mother! Look!
It's me, Pentheus, your own son!
The son you bore to Echion!
Spare me, Mother, I beg you!
I have done wrong, perhaps,
but you cannot kill your son!"
[tr. Robertson (2014)]
Like a priestess at the sacrificial altar, his mother began the slaughter. Poor Agave. He loosened the band from his hair that she might know him. He touched her cheek, saying, "I am your son, Pentheus, whom you bore in Echion's house -- have pity on me, mother, though I have sinned. Do not kill your son."
[tr. Behr/Foster (2019)]
His own mother, as priestess, began the slaughter, and fell upon him. He threw the miter from his head so that wretched Agaue might recognize and not kill him. Touching her cheek, he said: “It is I, mother, your son Pentheus, whom you bore in the house of Ekhion. Pity me, mother! Do not kill me, your child, for my errors!”
[tr. Buckley/Sens/Nagy (2020)]
His priestess-mother got the killing going,
attacking him. He tore off his headdress
so she would know him and not kill him,
poor Agave. Touching her face, he said:
“It’s me, mother. Your son, Pentheus.
You bore me in Echion’s house.
O mother, have mercy on me.
Don’t kill your son over his mistake.”
[tr. Benn (2022)]
Housekeeping is like being caught in a revolving door.
Marcelene Cox (1900-1998) American writer, columnist, aphorist
“Ask Any Woman” column, Ladies’ Home Journal (1944-10)
(Source)
To me the honour is sufficient of belonging to the universe — such a great universe, and so grand a scheme of things. Not even Death can rob me of that honour. For nothing can alter the fact that I have lived; I have been I, if for ever so short a time. And when I am dead, the matter which composes my body is indestructible — and eternal, so that come what may to my “Soul,” my dust will always be going on, each separate atom of me playing its separate part — I shall still have some sort of a finger in the pie. When I am dead, you can boil me, burn me, drown me, scatter me — but you cannot destroy me: my little atoms would merely deride such heavy vengeance. Death can do no more than kill you.
W. N. P. Barbellion (1889-1919) English diarist [William Nero Pilate Barbellion, pen name of Bruce Frederick Cummings]
The Journal of a Disappointed Man, 1912-12-22 (1919)
(Source)
If you want to go off by yourself and be a hermit, you can do whatever you want. But if you want interaction with other people, then by definition you have to buy into the social contract and restrain some of your behavior some of the time.
Judith Martin (b. 1938) American author, journalist [a.k.a. Miss Manners]
“Polite Company,” interview by Hara Estroff Marano, Psychology Today (1998-03)
(Source)
Tact does for life just what lubricating oil does for machinery. It makes the wheels run smoothly, and without it there is a great deal of friction and the possibility of a breakdown.
Laura Ingalls Wilder (1867-1957) American writer
“Just a Question of Tact,” Missouri Ruralist (1916-10-05)
(Source)
You serve the best wine always, my dear sir,
And yet they say your wines are not so good.
They say you are four times a widower.
They say … A drink? I don’t believe I would.[Tu Setina quidem semper vel Massica ponis,
Papyle, sed rumor tam bona vina negat:
Diceris hac factus caelebs quater esse lagona.
Nec puto nec credo, Papyle, nec sitio.]Martial (AD c.39-c.103) Spanish Roman poet, satirist, epigrammatist [Marcus Valerius Martialis]
Epigrams [Epigrammata], Book 4, epigram 69 (4.69) [tr. Cunningham (1971)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
When I with thee, Cinna, doe die or sup,
Thou still do'st offer me they Gossips cup:
And though it savour well, and be well spiced,
Yet I to taste thereof am not enticed.
Now sith you needs will have me cause alledge,
While I straine curt'sie in that cup to pledge:
One said, thou mad'st that cup so hote of spice,
That it had made thee now a widower twice.
I will not say 'tis so, nor that I thinke it:
But good Sir, pardon me, I cannot drinke it.
[tr. Harington (1618), ep. 101; Book 2, ep. 5]
Pure Massic wine thou does not only drink,
But giv'st thy guests: though some this do not think.
Four wives, 't is said, thy flagon caused to die;
This I believe not, yet not thirst to try.
[tr. Killigrew (1695)]
With the best wines of France you entertain:
Yet that your wine is bad the world complain:
That you have lost four wives by it; but I
Neither believe it, Sir, -- nor am adry.
[tr. Hay (1755)]
Thou Setian and Massic serv'st, Pamphilus, up:
But rumor thy wines has accurst.
A fourth time the wid'wer thou'rt hail'd by the cup:
I neither believe it, nor -- thirst.
[tr. Elphinston (1782)]
You always, it is true, Pamphilus, place Setine wine, or Massic, on table; but rumour says that they are not so pure as they ought to be. You are reported to have been four times made a widower by the aid of your goblet. I do not think this, or believe it, Pamphilus; but I am not thirsty.
[tr. Bohn's Classical (1859)]
On Massic and Setinian fares
The guest that banquets in your hall.
Yet, Papilus, report declares
Them not so wholesome after all.
'Tis said that by that wine-jar you
Four times became a widower. Thus
I neither think, nor hold it true,
Nor am I thirsty, Papilus.
[tr. Webb (1879)]
You indeed put on your table always Setine or Massic, Papilus, but rumour says your wines are not so very good: you are said by means of this brand to have been made a widower four times. I don't think so, or believe it, Papilus, but -- I am not thirsty.
[tr. Ker (1919)]
Setine and Massic at your board abound,
Yet some aver your wine is hardly sound;
’Twas this relieved you of four wives they say;
A libel -- but I will not dine to-day.
[tr. Pott & Wright (1921), "A Doubtful Vintage"]
Your butler prates of Setine and of Massic,
But scandal gives it titles not so classic.
"Four wives it's cost you." Gossip's never true,
But I'm not thirsty -- much obliged to you.
[tr. Francis & Tatum (1924), Ep. 202]
I see you do serve Massic wine
And even glorious Setian.
But rumor has it that they smack
A bit of that Venetian
Mixture that Lucretia served,
That four of your dear wives
On tasting those expensive labels
Promptly lost their lives.
It's all, I'm sure, a lot of talk,
Incredible, I think.
But thank you, no; I've got to go.
Besides, I do not drink.
[tr. Marcellino (1968)]
You serve wine in the very best bottles, Papylus,
but they say the wine is not exactly the best,
they say you've become a widower four times now
thanks to those very bottles.
What a crock!
You know I wouldn't take stock
in a rumor like that, Papylus.
It's just that I'm not thirsty.
[tr. Bovie (1970)]
You always serve Setine or Massic, Papylus, but rumor refuses us such excellent wines. This flask is said to have made you a widower four times over. I don't think so or believe so, Papylus, but -- I'm not thirsty.
[tr. Shackleton Bailey (1993)]
Pappus, they say your wine is not good,
it made you a widower four times.
I don't believe that. You're a civilised man.
Nevertheless, my thirst is suddenly gone.v [tr. Kennelly (2008), "A Civilised Man"]
You always serve such fine wine, Papylus,
but rumor makes us pass it up. They say
this flask has widowed you four times. I don't
believe it -- but my thirst has gone away.
[tr. McLean (2014)]
When I stepped through the door, the sharp odor of gin hit me. Charlie was drowning his sorrows, and they apparently were dying hard.
The only basis for fearing the votes of men is to fear those men themselves. To deny the right to vote is to increase those fears.
Lyndon B. Johnson (1908-1973) American politician, educator, US President (1963-69)
Comments, U.S. Senate (1960-03-10)
(Source)
As Senate Majority Leader.
“Here is where you can’t afford to be lazy,”
My Master said. “Lying in feather beds,
Or under quilts, no one conquers fame,
Without which, once your earthly life is dead,
The only traces you leave behind you are smoke
Blown in the air or bubbles breaking in water.[“Omai convien che tu così ti spoltre”,
disse ’l maestro; “ché, seggendo in piuma,
in fama non si vien, né sotto coltre;
sanza la qual chi sua vita consuma,
cotal vestigio in terra di sé lascia,
qual fummo in aere e in acqua la schiuma.”]Dante Alighieri (1265-1321) Italian poet
The Divine Comedy [Divina Commedia], Book 1 “Inferno,” Canto 24, l. 46ff (24.46-51) [Virgil] (1320) [tr. Raffel (2010)]
(Source)
The analogy of life to smoke and foam have been noted by commentators as resembling similar metaphors in Wisdom 2:1-4 and 5:14 and the Aeneid 5.740.
Virgil's urging of Dante to continue on out of a desire for fame, rather than to learn how to be saved or to come closer to God, have only recently been interpreted as an intentional showing that the poet/guide is not perfect -- another reason, beyond being only a virtuous pagan, that he cannot complete the journey with Dante to Paradise. (See here for more commentary on this.)
(Source (Italian)). Alternate translations:
It now is proper, said my Lord, that you
Should from this bed of yours arise; for they
Ne'er Fame acquire who spend their lives in down:
He who, without pursuing her, consumes
His time, leaves himself such tracts behind,
As Froth in Water, or as Smoke in Air.
[tr. Rogers (1782), ll. 44-49]
Arise! -- In vain the slumb'ring soul aspires,
(Her powers betray'd by sloth, extinct her fires)
In vain she tries the dazzling heights of fame:
As morning fogs disperse to meet no more,
As the waves close behind the lab'ring oar,
The dastard soul expires without a name!
[tr. Boyd (1802), st. 9]
“Now needs thy best of man;” so spake my guide:
“For not on downy plumes, nor under shade
Of canopy reposing, fame is won,
Without which whosoe’er consumes his days
Leaveth such vestige of himself on earth,
As smoke in air or foam upon the wave."
[tr. Cary (1814)]
"Rouse thee," my master urged, "'tis time to throw
This lethargy aside; who dozing lies
'Tween coverlet and feathers, ne'er shall know
Renown, and without her who wastes and dies,
Leaves of himself like trace on earth behind,
As foam on wave, or vapour on the skies."
[tr. Dayman (1843)]
"Now it behooves thee thus to free thyself from sloth," said the Master: "for sitting on down, or under coverlet, man come not into fame;
without which whoso consumes his his life, leaves such vestige of himself on earth, as smoke in air or foam in water."
[tr. Carlyle (1849)]
"Henceforth you must abandon indolence,"
My master said: "'tis not repose on plumes
That leads to fame -- nor yet in shady glooms;
Without the which if one consumes his life,
E'en such a vestige upon the earth he'll make
As smoke in air, or foam on water's track."
[tr. Bannerman (1850)]
"Now it befits thee to shake off this sloth,"
The Master said, "for resting upon down,
And under quilts is not the way to fame;
And without this he who his life consumes,
Leaves of himself on earth no better trace,
Than smoke in air or on the water foam."
[tr. Johnston (1867)]
"Now it behoves thee thus to put off sloth,"
My Master said; "for sitting upon down,
Or under quilt, one cometh not to fame,
Without which whoso his life consumes
Such vestige leaveth of himself on earth,
As smoke in air or in the water foam."
[tr. Longfellow (1867)]
"Henceforward it behoves that thou brace thyself thus," said the Master; "for not by sitting on feathers does one come into fame, nor under quilts; without the which whoso consumes his life leaves such trace on earth of himself as smoke in air or its froth on water."
[tr. Butler (1885)]
"Henceforth 'tis fitting thou shouldst shake off sloth,"
The master cried, "since idly lapt in down
'Neath coverlets, for him Fame never groweth.
Who so his life consumes without renown.
Leaves such a vestige of himself on earth,
As it were froth on air or water blown."
[tr. Minchin (1885)]
“Now it behoves thee thus to put off sloth,” said the Master, “for, sitting upon down or under quilt, one attains not fame, without which he who consumes his life leaves of himself such trace on earth as smoke in air, or in water the foam."
[tr. Norton (1892)]
"'Tis thus that thou must now shake thyself free from sloth," my Master said, "for seated on down, or under coverlet, man cometh not to fame; unattended by which whoso doth spend his days, leaveth such traces of himself on earth, as smoke in air or foam on water."
[tr. Sullivan (1893)]
"Thus must thou ever shake off sloth henceforward;"
The Master said, " for sitting upon feathers
Man cometh not to fame, nor under quilting;
Which lacking, whosoe'er consumes his life-time
Leaves of himself on earth just such a vestige
As smoke doth leave in air, and foam in water."
[tr. Griffith (1908)]
"Now must thou thus cast off all sloth," said the Master "for sitting on down or under blankets none comes to fame, and without it he that consumes his life leaves such trace of himself on earth as smoke in air or foam on water."
[tr. Sinclair (1939)]
"Now it behoveth lassitude to leave,"
The Master said, "for softly on down reclined
Or under coverlet, none can fame achieve,
Without which he who dallieth leaves behind
Such vestige of himself on earth imprest
As foam in water or smoke upon the wind."
[tr. Binyon (1943)]
"Put off this sloth," the master said, "for shame!
Sitting on feather-pillows, lying reclined
Beneath the blanket is no way to fame --
Fame, without which man's life wastes out of mind,
Leaving on earth no more memorial
Than foam in water or smoke upon the wind."
[tr. Sayers (1949)]
"Up on your feet! This is no time to tire!"
my Master cried. "The man who lies asleep
will never waken fame, and his desire
and all his life drift past him like a dream,
and the traces of his memory fade from time
like smoke in the air, or ripples on a stream."
[tr. Ciardi (1954)]
“Now it behooves you thus to cast off sloth,” said my master, “for sitting on down or under coverlet, no one comes to fame, without which whoso consumes his life leaves such vestige of himself on earth as smoke in air or foam on water."
[tr. Singleton (1970)]
"Come on, shake off the covers of this sloth,"
the master said, "for sitting softly cushioned,
or tucked in bed, is no way to win fame;
and without it man must waste his life away,
leaving such traces of what he was on earth
as smoke in wind and foam upon the water."
[tr. Musa (1971)]
“Now you must cast aside your laziness,”
my master said, “for he who rests on down
or under covers cannot come to fame;
and he who spends his life without renown
leaves such a vestige of himself on earth
as smoke bequeaths to air or foam to water."
[tr. Mandelbaum (1980)]
"Now is the time for you to rouse yourself,"
The master said; "for sitting on a cushion
Is not the way to fame, nor staying in bed;
And without fame, a man must spend his life
Only to leave such traces upon earth
As smoke leaves in the air, or foam in the water."
[tr. Sisson (1981)]
"To cast off sloth
Now well behooves you," said my master then:
"For resting on soft down, or underneath
The blanket's cloth, is not how fame is won --
Without which, one spends life to leave behind
As vestige of himself on earth the sign
Smoke leaves on air, or foam on water."
[tr. Pinsky (1994), l. 46ff]
“From now on you will have to cast off sloth in this way,” said my master, “for one does not gain fame sitting on down cushions, or while under coverlets;
and whoever consumes his life without fame leaves a mark of himself on earth like smoke in the air or foam in water."
[tr. Durling (1996)]
Now, you must free yourself from sloth: men do not achieve fame, sitting on down, or under coverlets; fame, without which whoever consumes his life leaves only such trace of himself, on earth, as smoke does in the air, or foam on water.
[tr. Kline (2002)]
"Now you must needs," my teacher said, "shake off
your wonted indolence. No fame is won
beneath the quilt or sunk in feather cushions.
Whoever, fameless, wastes his life away,
leaves of himself no greater mark on earth
than smoke in air or froth upon the wave."
[tr. Kirkpatrick (2006)]
'Now must you cast off sloth,' my master said.
'Sitting on feather cushions or stretched out
under comforters, no one comes to fame.
Without fame, he who spends his time on earth
leaves only such a mark upon the world
as smoke does on the air or foam on water.'
[tr. Hollander/Hollander (2007)]
“Now you must,”
My Guide said, “quell the slothful urge to rest.
A swansdown seat and a soft blanket just
Keep you from fame, without which no one who
Consumes his life leaves more trace in the world
Than smoke in air and foam on water do."
[tr. James (2013)]
Death cancels our engagements, but it does not affect the consequences of our acts in life.
Katherine Anne Porter (1890-1980) American journalist, essayist, author, political activist [b. Callie Russell Porter]
Letter draft to Mary Doherty (1932-10-21)
(Source)
In Isabel Bayley, ed., Letters of Katherine Anne Porter, Sec. 2 (1990). Discussing the suicide of her friend, Hart Crane.
We can disagree and still love each other unless your disagreement is rooted in my oppression and denial of my humanity and right to exist.
Robert Jones, Jr. (b. 1971) American writer [a.k.a. "Son of Baldwin"]
Twitter (2015-08-18)
(Source)
Frequently misattributed to James Baldwin.
More discussion here: Galería de la Raza: Son of Baldwin.
It is a cliché that most clichés are true, but then like most clichés, that cliché is untrue.
Stephen Fry (b. 1957) British actor, writer, comedian
Moab is My Washpot, “Joining In,” ch. 4 (1997)
(Source)
If a person transgresses any of these rules, the penalty shall fit the crime.
[Quod quis earum rerum migrassit, noxiae poena par esto.]
Marcus Tullius Cicero (106-43 BC) Roman orator, statesman, philosopher
De Legibus [On the Laws], Book 3, ch. 4 / sec. 11 (3.4/3.11) [Marcus] (c. 51 BC) [tr. Rudd (1998)]
(Source)
A variant on the Latin legal maxim, culpae poenae par esto, usually rendered "Let the punishment fit the crime" (see also Gilbert & Sullivan, The Mikado (1885)).
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
If any one shall infringe any of these laws, let him bear the penalty.
[tr. Barham (1842)]
If any one shall infringe any of these laws, let him be liable to a penalty.
[tr. Barham/Yonge (1878)]
The punishment for violation of any of these laws shall fit the offense.
[tr. Keyes (1928)]
Whatever of these someone has violated, let the penalty be equivalent to the crime.
[tr. Zetzel (1999)]
Whatever of these matters someone departs from, let there be a penalty equal to the wrongdoing.
[tr. Fott (2013)]
Whatever someone has violated, let the punishment match the offense.
[Bartelett's]
It’s no use crying over spilt evils. It’s better to mop them up laughing.
Eleanor Farjeon (1881-1965) English author
Gypsy and Ginger, “Gypsy and Ginger Take Things Seriously” [Gypsy] (1920)
(Source)
Sometimes it is good for us to have troubles and hardships, for they often call us back to our own hearts. Once there, we know ourselves to be strangers in this world, and we know that we may not believe in anything that it has to offer.
[Bonum nobis est, quod aliquando habeamus aliquas gravitates et contrarietates, quia sæpe hominem ad cor revocant, quatenus se in exilio esse cognoscat, nec spem suam in aliqua mundi re ponat.]
Thomas à Kempis (c. 1380-1471) German-Dutch priest, author
The Imitation of Christ [De Imitatione Christi], Book 1, ch. 12, v. 1 (1.12.1) (c. 1418-27) [tr. Creasy (1989)]
(Source)
See Psalm 119:71.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
It is good for me that I have been in Trouble, says David. Nor is it David's Case alone, for many Men have reason to bless that Providence which sends Crosses and Calamities upon them. These bring Man's Thoughts home, put him upon Reflection, and help him to understand himself and his Condition. They shew him, that he is in a State of Exile and Pilgrimage, and forbid him to set up his Hope and Rest, in a strange Country, where he is no better than a Sojourner.
[tr. Stanhope (1696; 1706 ed.), The Christian's Pattern]
It is good for man to suffer the adversity of this earthly life; for it brings him back to the sacred retirement of the heart, where only he finds, that he is an exile from his native home, and ought not to place his trust in any worldly enjoyment.
[tr. Payne (1803)]
It is good that we have sometimes some troubles and crosses; for they often make a man enter into himself, and consider that he is here in banishment, and ought not to place his trust in any worldly thing.
[ed. Parker (1841)]
It is good for us that we sometimes suffer contrarieties and vexations; for they call a man back to the retirement of his heart, where only he finds, that, as he is an exile from his native home, he ought not to place his trust in any worldly enjoyment.
[tr. Dibdin (1851)]
It is good for us to have sometimes troubles and adversities, for they make a man enter into himself, that he may know that he is in exile, and may not place his hopes in anything of the world.
[ed. Bagster (1860)]
It is good that we have sometime griefs and adversities, for they drive a man to behold himself, and to see that he is here but as in an exile, and be learned thereby to know that he ought not to put his trust in any worldly thing.
[tr. Whitford/Raynal (1530/1871)]
It is good for us that we sometimes have sorrows and adversities, for they often make a man lay to heart that he is only a stranger and sojourner, and may not put his trust in any worldly thing.
[tr. Benham (1874)]
It is good that we have sometimes troubles and crosses; for they often make a man enter into himself, and consider that he is here in banishment, and ought not to place his trust in any worldly thing.
[tr. Anon. (1901)]
It is good for us to have trials and troubles at times, for they often remind us that we are on probation and ought not to hope in any worldly thing.
[tr. Croft/Bolton (1940)]
It is good for us at times to have some burdens and adversities, for they often call a man back to his heart, that he may recognise himself to be in exile, and not fix his hope on anything earthly.
[tr. Daplyn (1952)]
It is good for us to encounter troubles and adversities from time to time, for trouble often compels a man to search his own heart. It reminds him that he is an exile here, and that he can put his trust in nothing in this world.
[tr. Sherley-Price (1952)]
It is good that we sometimes have griefs and adversities, for they drive a man to behold himself and to see that he is but here as in exile, and to learn thereby that he ought not put his trust in any worldly thing.
[tr. Whitford/Raynal (1530/1955)]
It's good for you to go through difficult times now and again, and to have your will thwarted; the effect is often to make a man think -- make him realize that he is living in exile, and it is no use relying upon any earthly support.
[tr. Knox-Oakley (1959)]
It is a good thing that we have to face difficulties and opposition from time to time, because this brings us back to ourselves; it makes us realize that we are exiles and cannot pin our hopes on anything in this world.
[tr. Knott (1962)]
It is good for us now and then to experience difficulties and adversity; for they make man realize again that he is an exile and should not put his hopes on any worldly thing.
[tr. Rooney (1979)]
History proves there is no better advertisement for a book than to condemn it for obscenity. Forbidden fruits have unique flavors, and the bounds of suppression create new limits of desire.
Holbrook Jackson (1874-1948) English journalist, editor, author
The Fear of Books, Part 2, ch. 1 (1932)
(Source)
Weather means more when you have a garden. There’s nothing like listening to a shower and thinking how it’s soaking in around your green beans.
Marcelene Cox (1900-1998) American writer, columnist, aphorist
“Ask Any Woman” column, Ladies’ Home Journal (1944-09)
(Source)
Somewhere — in desolate wind-swept space —
In Twilight-land — in No-man’s land —
Two hurrying Shapes met face to face,
And bade each other stand.
“And who are you?” cried one a-gape,
Shuddering in the gloaming light.
“I know not,” said the second Shape,
“I only died last night!”Thomas Bailey Aldrich (1836-1907) American writer, poet, critic, editor
“Identity,” Poems, Part 2 “Interludes” (1885)
(Source)
Teacup formality is a part of etiquette, but an infinitesimal part. How about fast-food informality? That is as much a part of etiquette as the teacup. It is all of our behavior and not simply the formal occasion behavior. And, in fact, the more informal the circumstances, usually the more you need etiquette.
Judith Martin (b. 1938) American author, journalist [a.k.a. Miss Manners]
“Polite Company,” interview by Hara Estroff Marano, Psychology Today (1998-03)
(Source)
Tact is not one thing only. It is a number of qualities working together: insight into the nature of men, sympathy, self-control, a knack of inducing self-control in others, avoidance of human blundering, readiness to give the immediate situation an understanding mind and a second thought. Tact is not only kindness, but kindness skillfully extended.
Of course someone would be that stupid. Some humans would do anything to see if it was possible to do it. If you put a large switch in some cave somewhere, with a sign on it saying “End-of-the-World Switch. PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH,” the paint wouldn’t even have time to dry.
We may all resort, at the summer solstice, to the warmest spots of Italy, to Ardea, Pestum, and Baiae, fervid with the heat of the constellation Leo, since Curiatus condemned the air of Tivoli, when he was on the point of being transported from its extolled waters to those of the Styx. Fate is not to be diverted by localities: when death comes, the pestilent Sardinia is to be found in the middle of the healthy Tivoli.
[Ardea solstitio Castranaque rura petantur
Quique Cleonaeo sidere fervet ager,
Cum Tiburtinas damnet Curiatius auras
Inter laudatas ad Styga missus aquas.
5Nullo fata loco possis excludere: cum mors
Venerit, in medio Tibure Sardinia est.]Martial (AD c.39-c.103) Spanish Roman poet, satirist, epigrammatist [Marcus Valerius Martialis]
Epigrams [Epigrammata], Book 4, epigram 60 (4.60) [tr. Amos (1858)]
(Source)
Sardinia was considered a proverbially unhealthy locale, while Tivoli (Tibur) was considered a healthy resort to travel to during the summer.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
When Leo rages with the summer's sun,
From pestilential climates never run;
Since, in the wholesom'st and the purest air,
The destinies Croatius did not spare.
When thy time's come, death from no place is bound,
Sardinia in the midst of Tibur's found.
[tr. Killigrew (1695)]
To Ardea, Pestum, roam, and e'er so far;
Or glow beneath the Cleonean star:
While Curiatius damns Tiburtian gales,
As down the healthfull streams to Styx he fails.
The Fates no place debars: if Death be there,
Alike is Tibur's and Sardinia's air.
[tr. Elphinston (1782), 9.10]
Let us in the summer solstice retire to Ardea and the country about Paestum, and to the tract which burns under the Cleonaean constellation; since Curiatius has condemned the air of Tivoli, carried off as he was to the Styx notwithstanding its much-lauded waters. From no place can you shut out fate: when death comes, Sardinia is in the midst of Tivoli itself.
[tr. Bohn's Classical (1859)]
Go where you will, you cannot shut
The door on Fate; when Death draws nigh,
Then far Sardinia is as near
As Tibur.
[ed. Harbottle (1897)]
Seek ye Ardea in summer's heat, and the field sof castum, and teh meads scorched by Cleonae's star, seeing that Curiatius condemns Tibur's air; from amid waters so belauded was he sent to Styx. In no spot canst thou shut out fate; when death comes even in Tibur's midst is a Sardinia.
[tr. Ker (1919)]
Now must we say, if thou be wise
In summer’s heat to Ardea turn,
Or seek the plain where Castrum lies
And the hot stars of Leo burn.
He that is laid in yonder grave
Saith, "Tarry not but get thee gone."
Here sought he Arno’s healing wave,
But found the stream of Acheron?
[tr. Pott & Wright (1921)]
To Ardea and Castrum let us go
In the dog-days when all the heaven's aglow.
Tibur's a death trap; Curiatius died,
Sent mid its breezes to the Stygian tide.
Death ranges at his will; when so inclined
In Tibur's bosom he'll Sardinia find.
[tr. Francis & Tatum (1924), ep. 195]
Now in the blazing heat we might as well escape
to Castrum, or Ardea, or any sunburnt landscape,
since Curiatius has laid a curse
on the air of Tivoli by dying there,
where the waters are also salubrious.
No place can fend off death. It's no worse
to expire in sickly Sardinia than in a spa.
[tr. Bovie (1970)]
At the solstice let us make for Ardea and the Castran countryside and whatever fields are scorched by Cleonae's constellation, since Curiatius damns the breezes of Tibur, dispatched to Styx amid her lauded waters. In no place can you shut out fate; when death comes, in the midst of Tibur is Sardinia.
[tr. Shackleton Bailey (1993)]
You know a little drink now and then never hurt nobody, but when you can’t git started without asking the bottle, you in trouble.
Surely I wept, leaning upon a ledge
Of the rough rock, so that my escort said,
“Art thou then weak and foolish like the rest?
Here lives true piety when pity dies.
But who more wicked than the man who yields
To sorrow place where judgment is divine!”[Certo io piangea, poggiato a un de’ rocchi
del duro scoglio, sì che la mia scorta
mi disse: “Ancor se’ tu de li altri sciocchi?
Qui vive la pietà quand’è ben morta;
chi è più scellerato che colui
che al giudicio divin passion comporta?]Dante Alighieri (1265-1321) Italian poet
The Divine Comedy [Divina Commedia], Book 1 “Inferno,” Canto 20, l. 25ff (20.25-30) (1320) [tr. Johnston (1867)]
(Source)
Virgil chides Dante for weeping over the fate of the damned in the third circle, fourth bolgia, who themselves are also weeping.
Maybe. There are a lot of scholarly debates over some of the wording and pronoun references here. Some translators play off the word pietà meaning both "pity" and "piety" in Italian. It's also possible that, rather than the final lines condemning Dante for letting his compassion defy an acceptance of God's judgment, they refer to the sinful arrogance of fortune-tellers (the group being punished here) in believing they can question or change God's decrees for the future.
(Source (Italian)). Alternate translations:
Leaning against the rock, I so great grief
Express'd, that thus my Guide to me apply'd;
Are you among the weak to be arrang'd?
When without life, 'tis here Compassion lives.
Who can more wicked be estem'd than He
Who thinks that the divine Decrees are wrong.
[tr. Rogers (1782), l. 22ff]
Their laboring reins the falling tear bedew'd,
Deep struck with sympathetic woe I stood,
'Till thus the Bard my slumb'ring reason woke: --
"Dar'st thou the sentence of thy God arraign;
Or with presumptuous tears his doom profane?
Say, can thy tears his righteous doom revoke?
[tr. Boyd (1802), st. 5]
Against a rock
I leant and wept, so that my guide exclaim’d:
“What, and art thou too witless as the rest?
Here pity most doth show herself alive,
When she is dead. What guilt exceedeth his,
Who with Heaven’s judgment in his passion strives?
[tr. Cary (1814)]
Certes I wept so, leaning toward a breast
Of that hard shelf, mine escort chiding said:
"Why wilt thou yet be foolish as the rest?
Here pity best hath life when wholly dead:
What guiltier wretch than he whose grief avowed
Impugns Almighty Judgment?
[tr. Dayman (1843)]
Certainly I wept, leaning on one of the rocks of the hard cliff, so that my Escort said to me: "Art thou, too, like the other fools?
"Here pity lives when it is altogether dead. Who more impious than he that sorrows at God's judgment?"
[tr. Carlyle (1849)]
Sore I lamented, leaning on a rock,
A rough-planed crag, until my guide addressed
The words -- "Are you, too, foolish like the rest?
Here Pity is alive, e'en when quite dead.
And what can be more wicked than the man
Who 'gainst heaven's justice in his passion ran.
[tr. Bannerman (1850)]
Truly I wept, leaning upon a peak
Of the hard crag, so that my Escort said
To me: "Art thou, too, of the other fools?
Here pity lives when it is wholly dead;
Who is a greater reprobate than he
Who feels compassion at the doom divine?
[tr. Longfellow (1867)]
Of a truth I began to weep leaning against one of the rocks of the hard cliff, so that my Escort said to me: "Art thou yet among the other foolish ones? Here pity lives when it is right dead. Who is more wicked than he who brings passion to the judgement of God?"
[tr. Butler (1885)]
Surely I wept, supported on a rise
Of that fire-hardened rock, so that my guide
Said to me: "Thou too 'mongst the little wise?
Here Pity lives alone, when it hath died.
Who is the greater scelerate than he
Who lets his passion 'gainst God's judgment bide?"
[tr. Minchin (1885)]
Truly I wept, leaning on one of the rocks of the hard crag, so that my Guide said to me, “Art thou also one of the fools? Here pity liveth when it is quite dead. Who is more wicked than he who feels compassion at the Divine Judgment?"
[tr. Norton (1892)]
I wept indeed, leaning against a rock on the stony ridge, so overcome, that my Guide said to me: "Art thou too like the other fools? Here pity liveth but when it is truly dead. Who is more lost to righteousness than he whose pity is awakened at the decree of God?"
[tr. Sullivan (1893)]
Certain, I wept, supported on a comer
Of the hard spur, so freely that my escort
Said to me : "Art thou still among the simple?
Here piety lives when wholly dead is pity.
Who is than he more desperately wicked
Who to the doom divine doth bring compassion?
[tr. Griffith (1908)]
I wept indeed, leaning on one of the rocks of the rugged ridge, so that my Escort said to me: "Art thou too as witless as the rest? Here pity lives when it is quite dead. Who is more guilty than he that makes the divine counsel subject to his will?"
[tr. Sinclair (1939)]
Truly I wept, leant up against the breast
Of the hard granite, so that my Guide said:
"Art thou then still so foolish, like the rest?
Here pity lives when it is rightly dead.
What more impiety can he avow
Whose heart rebelleth at God's judgment dread?
[tr. Binyon (1943)]
Truly I wept, leaned on the pinnacles
Of the hard rock; until my guide said, "Why!
And art thou too like all the other fools?
Here pity, or here piety, must die
If the other lives; who's wickeder than one
That's agonized by God's high equity?"
[tr. Sayers (1949)]
Certainly,
I wept. I leaned agianst the jagged face
of a rock and wept so that my Guide said: "Still?
Still like the other fools? There is no place
for pity here. Who is more arrogant
within his soul, who is more impious
than one who dares to sorrow at God's judgment?
[tr. Ciardi (1954)]
Truly I wept, leaning on one of the rocks of the hard crag, so that my guide said to me, “Are you even yet among the other fools? Here pity lives when it is altogether dead. Who is more impious than he who sorrows at God’s judgment?"
[tr. Singleton (1970)]
Indeed I did weep, as I leaned my body
against a jut of rugged rock. My guide:
"So you are still like all the other fools?
In this place piety lives when pity is dead,
for who could be more wicked than that man
who tries to bend divine will to his own!
[tr. Musa (1971)]
Of course I wept, leaning against a rock
along that rugged ridge, so that my guide
told me: “Are you as foolish as the rest?
Here pity only lives when it is dead:
for who can be more impious than he
who links God's judgment to passivity?
[tr. Mandelbaum (1980)]
I certainly wept, supported on one of the rocks
Of the projecting stone, so that my escort
Said to me: "Are you too like the other fools?
Here pity is alive when it is dead:
Who is more criminal than he who suffers
Because he does not like the divine judgement?
[tr. Sisson (1981)]
Truly I wept,
Leaning on an outcrop of that rocky site,
And my master spoke to me: "Do you suppose
You are above with the other fools even yet?
Here, pity lives when it is dead to these.
Who could be more impious than one who'd dare
To sorrow at the judgment God decrees?"
[tr. Pinsky (1994)]
Surely I wept, leaning on one of the rocks of the hard ridge, so that my guide said to me: “Are you still one of the other fools?
Here pity lives when it is quite dead: who is more wicked than one who brings passion to God’s judgment?"
[tr. Durling (1996)]
Truly, I wept, leaning against one of the rocks of the solid cliff, so that my guide said to me: "Are you like other fools, as well? Pity is alive here, where it is best forgotten. Who is more impious than one who bears compassion for God’s judgement?"
[tr. Kline (2002)]
Of this, be sure: that, leaning on a spur
of that unyielding cliff, I wept. "Are you,"
my escort said, "like them, an idiot still?
Here pity lives where pity's truth is dead.
Who is more impious, more scarred with sin
than one who pleads compassion at God's throne?"
[tr. Kirkpatrick (2006)]
Yes, I wept, leaning against a spur
of the rough crag, so that my escort said:
"Are you still witless as the rest?
Here piety lives when pity is quite dead.
Who is more impious than one who thinks
that God shows passion in His judgment?"
[tr. Hollander/Hollander (2007)]
O yes, I wept, leaning for support on one
Of the solid rocks in the reef, making my guide
Say this: "You're still one of the stupid ones?
Down here, the only living pity is dead.
Is anyone more wicked than the man
Regretting the righteous judgment decreed by God?"
[tr. Raffel (2010)]
I wept indeed, held up in my surprise
By one rock of the ridge. My Escort said:
"You're witless as the rest? Here pity dwells,
But only when it's absolutely dead.
Who is more guilty than he who by spells
And mysteries makes it seem as if divine
Judgment were subject to his will?"
[tr. James (2013)]
French food, by the way, isn’t fancy unless, like other cooking, it wants to be fancy; perhaps it sounds so because it is in a foreign language, but a Coq au Vin is a chicken stew, a Pot-au-feu is a boiled dinner, a Mayonnaise de Volaille is a chicken salad, Soubise is plain old rice cooked with onions, and there is nothing fancy about any of them.
Julia Child (1912-2004) American chef and writer
Julia Child’s Kitchen, Introduction (1975)
(Source)
The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel must be intolerably stupid.
To understand the actual world as it is, not as we should wish it to be, is the beginning of wisdom.
Bertrand Russell (1872-1970) English mathematician and philosopher
“Censorship by Progressives,” New York American (1934-10-11)
(Source)
Try as we will, we cannot honestly recall our youth, for we have lost the feel of its main ingredient: suspense.
Mignon McLaughlin (1913-1983) American journalist and author
The Neurotic’s Notebook, ch. 3 (1963)
(Source)
But ye — who never felt a single thought
For what our Morals are to be, or ought;
Who wisely wish the charms you view to reap,
Say — would you make those beauties quite so cheap?
Hot from the hands promiscuously applied,
Round the slight waist, or down the glowing side,
Where were the rapture then to clasp the form
From this lewd grasp and lawless contact warm?George Gordon, Lord Byron (1788-1824) English poet
“The Waltz,” l. 230ff (1813)
(Source)
The new dance was considered something of a scandal, given its contact between male and female dancers. Published anonymously by Byron.
I don’t need you to remind me of my age, I have a bladder to do that for me.
Stephen Fry (b. 1957) British actor, writer, comedian
“Trefusis Returns!” Paperweight (1992)
(Source)
Originally printed in The Daily Telegraph (c. 1990).
I suggested a plan one time to shorten the Senate debating. Every time a Senator tells all he knows, make him sit down. That will shorten it. Some of them wouldn’t be able to answer roll call.
Money is a singular thing. It ranks with love as man’s greatest source of joy. And with death as his greatest source of anxiety.
John Kenneth Galbraith (1908-2006) Canadian-American economist, diplomat, author
The Age of Anxiety, ch. 6 “The Rise and Fall of Money” (1977)
(Source)
If all the People of different Opinions in this Province would engage to give me as much for not printing things they don’t like, as I can get by printing them, I should probably live a very easy Life; and if all Printers were every where so dealt by, there would be very little printed.
Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790) American statesman, scientist, philosopher, aphorist
“Apology for Printers,” Philadelphia Gazette (1731-06-10)
(Source)
Old Age. — I make it a rule never to force myself upon a person’s recognition until I have known him at least five years.
Professor. — Do you mean to say that you have known me so long as that?
Old Age. — I do. I left my card on you longer ago than that, but I am afraid you never read it; yet I see you have it with you.
Professor. — Where?
Old Age. — There, between your eyebrows, — three straight lines running up and down; all the probate courts know that token, — “Old Age, his mark.” Put your forefinger on the inner end of one eyebrow, and your middle finger on the inner end of the other eyebrow; now separate the fingers, and you will smooth out my sign-manual; that’s the way you used to look before I left my card on you.
Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. (1809-1894) American poet, essayist, scholar
The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table, ch. 7, “Incipit Allegoria Senectutis” (1858)
(Source)
To my mind, a man without a bias cannot write interesting history — if, indeed, such a man exists. I regard it as mere humbug to pretend to a lack of bias.
Bertrand Russell (1872-1970) English mathematician and philosopher
Autobiography, ch. 13 (1968)
(Source)
The United States is not a beacon, not a light of freedom! She is a warning, rather than an example to the world!
Lydia Maria Child (1802-1880) American abolitionist, activist, journalist, suffragist
Speech, Massachusetts Anti-Slavery Society 25th Anniversary Conference (1857)
(Source)
On slavery in the US, two months before the Dredd Scott decision.
Almost always elided as "The United States ... is a warning, rather than example to the world."
Blest is the man who cheats the stormy sea
And safely moors beside the sheltering quay;
So, blest is he who triumphs over trial.
One man, by various means, in wealth or strength
Outdoes his neighbour; hope in a thousand hearts
Colours a thousand different dreams; at length
Some find a dear fulfilment, some denial.
But this I say,
That he who best
Enjoys each passing day
Is truly blest.[εὐδαίμων μὲν ὃς ἐκ θαλάσσας
ἔφυγε χεῖμα, λιμένα δ᾽ ἔκιχεν:
εὐδαίμων δ᾽ ὃς ὕπερθε μόχθων
ἐγένεθ᾽: ἑτέρᾳ δ᾽ ἕτερος ἕτερον
ὄλβῳ καὶ δυνάμει παρῆλθεν.
μυρίαι δ᾽ ἔτι μυρίοις
εἰσὶν ἐλπίδες: αἳ μὲν
τελευτῶσιν ἐν ὄλβῳ
βροτοῖς, αἳ δ᾽ ἀπέβησαν:
τὸ δὲ κατ᾽ ἦμαρ ὅτῳ βίοτος
εὐδαίμων, μακαρίζω.]Euripides (485?-406? BC) Greek tragic dramatist
Bacchæ [Βάκχαι], l. 902ff (Stasimon 3, Epode) [Chorus/Χορός] (405 BC) [tr. Vellacott (1973)]
(Source)
(Source (Greek)). Alternate translations:
Blest is the man who 'scapes the stormy wave.
And in the harbour finds repose:
He too is blest, 'midst dangers brave,
Who soars above the malice of his foes:
And now these, now those possess
Superior talents or success;
Distinct their aims; but hope each bosom fires.
There are, a rich encrease who find,
The vows of some are scatter'd in the wind:
But in my judgement blest are they
Who taste, tho' only for the day.
The joys their soul desires.
[tr. Wodhull (1809)]
Happy is he who has fled a storm on the sea, and reached harbor. Happy too is he who has overcome his hardships. One surpass another in different ways, in wealth or power. There are innumerable hopes to innumerable men, and some result in wealth to mortals, while others fail. But I call him blessed whose life is happy day today.
[tr. Buckley (1850)]
Who hath 'scaped the turbulent sea,
And reached the haven, happy he!
Happy he whose toils are o'er
In the race of wealth and power!
This one her, and that one there,
Passes by, and everywhere
Still expectant thousands over
Thousands hopes are seen to hover,
Some to mortals end in bliss;
Some have already fled away:
Happiness alone is his
That happy is to-day.
[tr. Milman (1865)]
Happy he, who from the storm,
Has the breaker escaped, and the harbour has reached;
Happy he who after toil
Is the victor, for many the ways in which man
Wins him power, and wins him wealth.
Thousand-fold ever to thousands of men,
Hope follows upon hope,
With some it grows unceasingly,
With some it wastes to nothingness.
But he whose life is ever fresh,
Lives in unbroken happiness.
[tr. Rogers (1872), l. 865ff.]
Happy is he who hath escaped the wave from out the sea, and reached the haven; and happy he who hath triumphed o’er his troubles; though one surpasses another in wealth and power; yet there be myriad hopes for all the myriad minds; some end in happiness for man, and others come to naught; but him, whose life from day to day is blest, I deem a happy man.
[tr. Coleridge (1891)]
Blest who from ravening seas
Hath 'scaped to haven-peace,
Blest who hath triumphed in endeavour's toil and throe.
This man to higher height
Attains, of wealth, of might,
Than that; yet myriad hopes in myriad hearts still glow:
To fair fruition brought
Are some, some come to nought:
Happy is he whose bliss from day to day doth grow.
[tr. Way (1898)]
Happy he, on the weary sea
Who hath fled the tempest and won the haven.
Happy whoso hath risen, free,
Above his striving. For strangely graven
Is the orb of life, that one and another
In gold and power may outpass his brother.
And men in their millions float and flow
And seethe with a million hopes as leaven;
And they win their Will, or they miss their Will,
And the hopes are dead or are pined for still;
But whoe'er can know,
As the long days go,
That To Live is happy, hath found his Heaven!
[tr. Murray (1902)]
-- Blessèd is he who escapes the storm at sea,
who comes home to his harbor.
-- Blessèd is he who emerges from under affliction.
-- In various ways one man outraces another in the race for wealth and power.
-- Ten thousand men possess ten thousand hopes.
-- A few bear fruit in happiness; the others go awry.
-- But he who garners day by day the good of life, he is happiest. Blessèd is he.
[tr. Arrowsmith (1960)]
Happy the man who from the sea
escapes the storm and finds harbor;
happy he who has surmounted
toils; and in different ways one surpasses another
in prosperity and power.
Besides this, for countless men there are countless
hopes -- some of them
reach to the end in prosperity
for mortals, and others depart;
but him whose life day by day
is happy do I count blessed.
[tr. Kirk (1970)]
Happy he from the sea escaping
out of the storm, arriving at anchorage;
happy he fleeing labour's straining;
in many manners may men surpass other men
in prosperity and in power.
Thousand-fold upon thousand-fold
hopes come crowding upon us,
and some finally prosper
for mortals, some are vanish'd:
who day by day has a livelihood of happiness, he is blessed
[tr. Neuburg (1988)]
Happy the man who withstands
life's assaults.
Somehow, in some way, some man surpasses some other
in position and fortune.
For millions of men there are millions of hopes.
For some, these ripen into happiness,
for others into nothing.
Count lucky the man who is happy on this one day.
[tr. Cacoyannis (1982)]
That man is blessed who fled the storm
At sea and reached the bay.
And he is blessed who rose above
His toil. In various ways
One man outstrips in wealth and power
Another: countless men
Have countless hopes: some end in joy,
But others drift way.
The man who day to day has luck
In life -- that man I bless.
[tr. Blessington (1993)]
Happy the man who escapes
the storm at sea and reaches harbor.
Happy, too, is he who overcomes
his toils. And in different ways one man
surpasses another in prosperity and power.
Besides, countless are the hopes
of countless men, Some of those hopes
end in prosperity for mortals, others vanish.
But I count him blessed whose life,
from day to day, is happy.
[tr. Esposito (1998)]
Happy the man who has come away
safe on the beach from a storm at sea,
happy the man who has risen above
trouble and toil. Many are the ways
one man may surpass another
in wealth or power,
and beyond each hope there beckons another
hope without number.
Hope may lead a man to wealth,
hope may pass away;
but I admire a man when he
is happy in an ordinary life.
[tr. Woodruff (1999)]
Happy is he who escapes
A storm at sea and finds safe harbor.
Happy is he who has risen above
Great toils. In different ways,
Some persons outdo others
In their wealth and power.
And hopes are as many as those who hope --
Some will end in rich reward, others in nothing.
But those whose lives are happy
Day by day -- those
I call the blesséd.
[tr. Gibbons/Segal (2000)]
Blessed is he that out of the sea
escapes the storm and wins the harbor;
blessed he who triumphs over
trouble: one man surpasses another
in respect to wealth or power.
Furthermore, in countless hearts
there live countless hopes, some
ending in good fortune,
though some vanish away.
But the man whose life today is happy,
him I count blessed.
[tr. Kovacs (2002)]
Joy of the storm endured,
And the harbour safely reached.
Joy of hardship overcome.
Joy of striving for wealth and power.
Joy of hope. Joy of dreams,
Fulfilled or unfulfilled.
And most blessed they who takes their joy
In the simple detail of the day by day --
[tr. Teevan (2002)]
Happy is the man who has escaped the storms of life’s angry seas and found a harbour; and happy is the man who have endured those storms.
Men are infinite in number and their hopes have no end and some of these hopes bring joy to some and nothing to others.
I say blessed is the man whose life has been happy -- so far.
These are useful pieces of advice. True wisdom.
[tr. Theodoridis (2005)]
Blessed is the one who's fled the
Storm at sea and come to harbour;
And happy is he who rises above
Hardships; for one may sur-
Pass another in wealth or in power,
But these are a lot hopes to a lot of
Different people; and many end in
Happiness while others fail mis’rably
But the one who's happy day-to-day,
Is the one who's truly blessed.
[tr. Valerie (2005)]
Whoever has escaped a storm at sea
is a happy man in harbour,
whoever overcomes great hardship
is likewise another happy man.
Various men outdo each other
in wealth, in power,
in all sorts of ways.
The hopes of countless men
are infinite in number.
Some make men rich;
some come to nothing,
So I consider that man blessed
who lives a happy life
existing day by day.
[tr. Johnston (2008), l. 1106ff]
Lucky is the man who escapes a storm at sea
and finds his way home to safe harbour --
the man delivered from hardship.
We all compete for wealth and power,
and for every thousand hearts a thousand hopes.
Some wither, some bear fruit.
But the one who lives from day to day,
finding good where he can:
he is happy --
he is a lucky man.
[tr. Robertson (2014)]
Fortunate is the one who flees
The swell of the sea and returns to harbor.
Fortunate is the one who survives through troubles.
One is greater than another in different things,
He surpasses in fortune and power --
But in numberless hearts still
Are numberless hopes: some result
In good fortune, but other mortal dreams
Just disappear.
Whoever has a happy life to-day,
I consider fortunate.
[tr. @sentantiq (2018)]
Happy is the one who escapes a sea-storm
and comes home to the harbor.
And happy is the one who stands against their hardships.
Happy are they who endure.
One man may exceed another, in his own way.
In wealth.
In power.
Countless hopes for yet-more-countless people.
Sometimes hope wins out, gives us riches --
And sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes we fail.
But the one who can live in spite of this,
who is happy day to day.
That one is blessed.
[tr. Pauly (2019)]
Blessed is the one who finds a harbour safe from the winter sea. Blessed is the one who travels beyond affliction. Blessed is the one who wins great joy. Numberless more have their dreams. Some hopes are fulfilled, some vanish. Whoever lives happily from day to day I bless.
[tr. Behr/Foster (2019)]
Fortunate [eudaimōn] is he who has fled a storm on the sea and reached harbor. Eudaimōn too is he who has overcome his toils. Different people surpass others in various ways, be it in wealth [olbos] or in power. Mortals have innumerable hopes, and some come to telos in prosperity [olbos], while others fail. I deem him blessed whose life is eudaimōn day by day.
[tr. Buckley/Sens/Nagy (2020)]
A mind unfree, a mind possessed, dragooned, or indoctrinated, does not learn. It copies. Learning implies discovery. The unfree mind looks at maps but does not travel. It dares not. For at the edge of maps is the jumping-off place, full of dragons and sea serpents. The unfree mind stays home, locks the door, bars the shutters. It is a hero in a crowd, a coward in solitude; it is a slave and a sloth.
Whitney Griswold (1906–1963) American historian, educator [Alfred Whitney Griswold]
“Freedom, Security, and the University Tradition,” speech, Columbia University Bicentennial (1954-06-02)
(Source)
Reprinted in Griswold, In the University Tradition (1957).
Pleasures may be based on illusion; happiness must be based on truth.
[Le plaisir peut s’appuyer sur l’illusion; mais le bonheur repose sur la vérité.]
Nicolas Chamfort (1741-1794) French writer, epigrammist (b. Nicolas-Sébastien Roch)
Products of Perfected Civilization [Produits de la Civilisation Perfectionée], Part 1 Maxims and Thoughts [Maximes et Pensées], ch. 2 (1795) [tr. Parmée (2003), # 123]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:
Pleasure may rest upon illusion, but felicity must repose upon truth.
[tr. Mathers (1926), # 153]
Pleasure may be be based on illusion, but happiness rests on truth.
[tr. Merwin (1969)]
Variants:
- "Pleasure can be supported by an illusion; but happiness rests upon truth."
- "Pleasure may come from illusion, but happiness can come only of reality."
You believe someone not because you have no doubts about them. Belief is not the absence of doubt. You believe someone because you don’t have enough doubts about them.
Malcolm Gladwell (b. 1963) Anglo-Canadian journalist, author, public speaker
Talking to Strangers: What We Should Know About the People We Don’t Know (2019)
(Source)
Imaginary evil is romantic and varied; real evil is gloomy, monotonous, barren, boring. Imaginary good is boring; real good is always new, marvelous, intoxicating.
Simone Weil (1909-1943) French philosopher
Gravity and Grace [La Pesanteur et la Grâce], “Evil” (1947) [ed. Thibon] [tr. Crawford/von der Ruhr (1952)]
(Source)
If a man be discreet enough to take to hard drinking in his youth, before his general emptiness is ascertained, his friends invariably credit him with a host of shining qualities which, we are given to understand, lie balked and frustrated by his one unfortunate weakness.
Agnes Repplier (1855-1950) American writer
“A Plea for Humor,” Points of View (1891)
(Source)
Offered as a hypothetical sardonic observation by the author William Dean Howells.
Ah, Constantine! what mischief in the gift —
Not thy conversion, but the dower you gave
For the first wealthy Father to receive.[Ahi, Costantin, di quanto mal fu matre,
non la tua conversion, ma quella dote
che da te prese il primo ricco patre!]Dante Alighieri (1265-1321) Italian poet
The Divine Comedy [Divina Commedia], Book 1 “Inferno,” Canto 19, l. 115ff (9.115-117) [Dante] (1320) [tr. Bannerman (1850)]
(Source)
According to legend, the Emperor Constantine, having been cured of leprosy through baptism by Pope Sylvester, both showered Sylvester with riches and moved his own capital to Constantinople, leaving the Pope as temporal ruler of the West. This "Donation of Constantine" was fabricated in the 8th century, and first used by Pope Adrian I to encourage Charlemagne to give generously and acknowledge papal power over the emperor. It was largely believed true until the 15th Century. Dante, both author and character, traced the Church's corruption by power and wealth from that legend.
(Source (Italian)). Alternate translations:
Ah! Constantine, of how much ill was Cause
Not thy Conversion, but those rich Domains
That the first wealthy Pope received of thee!
[tr. Milton (1641)]
Ah, Constantine, what are the many Ills
You have been parent of: I do not mean
By your Conversion, but that pompous Gift
By which our Holy Father you enrich'd!
[tr. Rogers (1782), l. 112ff]
Lamented ever be that lib'ral hand,
Whose gifts allur'd the Apostolic band
To leave that humble path where long they trod.
[tr. Boyd (1802), st. 19]
Ah, Constantine! to how much ill gave birth,
Not thy conversion, but that plenteous dower,
Which the first wealthy Father gain’d from thee!
[tr. Cary (1814)]
Ah, Constantine! what ills have we to rue --
I say not from thine own conversion sprung,
But from thy dower, the first rich father drew!
[tr. Dayman (1843)]
Ah Constantine! to how much ill gave birth, not thy conversion, but that dower which the first rich Father took from thee!
[tr. Carlyle (1849)]
Oh, Constantine, of how much ill the source!
Not thy conversion, but that fatal dower
Which the first Father took from the in gift!
[tr. Johnston (1867)]
Ah, Constantine! of how much ill was mother,
Not thy conversion, but that marriage-dower
Which the first wealthy Father took from thee!
[tr. Longfellow (1867)]
Ah, Constantine, of how great ill was mother, not thy conversion, but that dowry which the first rich pope got from thee!
[tr. Butler (1885)]
Ah, Constantine, of how much ill was cause,
Not thy conversion but the fatal dower
Which the first wealthy father from thee draws!
[tr. Minchin (1885)]
Ah Constantine! of how much ill was mother, not thy conversion, but that dowry which the first rich Father received from thee!
[tr. Norton (1892)]
Ah! Constantine, of how great ill was mother,
Not thy conversion, but that fatal dowry,
Which from thy hands received the first rich Father.
[tr. Griffith (1908)]
Ah, Constantine, of how much evil gave birth,
not thy conversion, but that dower
the first rich Father had from thee.
[tr. Sinclair (1939)]
Ah, Constantine, what evil fruit did bear
Not they conversion, but that dowry broad
Thou on the first rich Father didst confer!
[tr. Binyon (1943)]
Ah, Constantine! What ills were gendered there --
No, not from thy conversion, but the dower
The first rich Pope received from thee as heir?
[tr. Sayers (1949)]
Ah Constantine, what evil marked the hour --
not of your conversion, but of the fee
the first rich Father took from you in dower!
[tr. Ciardi (1954)]
Ah, Constantine, of how much ill was mother, not your conversion, but that dowry which the first rich Father took from you!
[tr. Singleton (1970)]
Oh, Constantine, what evil did you sire,
not by your conversion, but by the dower
that the first wealthy Father got from you!
[tr. Musa (1971)]
Ah, Constantine, what wickedness was born --
and not from your conversion -- from the dower
that you bestowed upon the first rich father!
[tr. Mandelbaum (1980)]
Ah, Constantine, how much ill you produced,
Not by your conversion, but by that endowment
Which the first rich father accepted from you.
[tr. Sisson (1981)]
Ah Constantine! What measure of wickedness
Stems from that mother -- not your conversion, I mean:
Rather the dowry that the first rich Father
Accepted from you!
[tr. Pinsky (1994), l. 108ff]
Ah, Constantine, not your conversion, but that dowry which the first rich father took from you, has been the mother of so much evil!
[tr. Durling (1996)]
Ah, Constantine, how much evil you gave birth to, not in your conversion, but in that Donation that the first wealthy Pope, Sylvester, received from you!
[tr. Kline (2002)]
What harm you mothered, Emperor Constantine!
Not your conversion but the dowry he --
that first rich Papa -- thus obtained from you!
[tr. Kirkpatrick (2006)]
Ah, Constantine, to what evil you gave birth,
not by your conversion, but by the dowry
that the first rich Father had from you!
[tr. Hollander/Hollander (2007)]
Ah, Constantine, the evil thrown in the world
Was not your conversion to Christ, but the wealth and grandeur
The first rich Pope and Father took from your hands!
[tr. Raffel (2010)]
Constantine! You set the spurs
To evil, not by cleaving to your new
Religion, but by how, when you moved east,
You gave Sylvester, just to stay behind,
The Western Empire's wealth.
[tr. James (2013)]
Consequences are unpitying.
George Eliot (1819-1880) English novelist [pseud. of Mary Ann Evans]
Adam Bede, Book 1, ch. 16 “Links” [Mr. Irwine] (1859)
(Source)
Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them laugh, and little heeded them; for he was wise enough to know that nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the outset; and knowing that such as these would be blind anyway, he thought it quite as well that they should wrinkle up their eyes in grins, as have the malady in less attractive forms. His own heart laughed: and that was quite enough for him.
Charles Dickens (1812-1870) English writer and social critic
A Christmas Carol, Stave 5 “The End of It” (1843)
(Source)
It is unreasonable to imagine Printers approve of every thing they print, and to censure them on any particular thing accordingly; since in the way of their Business they print such great variety of things opposite and contradictory. It is likewise as unreasonable what some assert, That Printers ought not to print any Thing but what they approve; since if all of that Business should make such a Resolution, and abide by it, an End would thereby be put to Free Writing, and the World would afterwards have nothing to read but what happen’d to be the Opinions of Printers.
Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790) American statesman, scientist, philosopher, aphorist
“Apology for Printers,” Philadelphia Gazette (1731-06-10)
(Source)
There is no neutrality. There is only greater or less awareness of one’s bias.
Phyllis Rose (b. 1942) American literary critic, essayist, biographer, educator
“Fact and Fiction in Biography,” Writing of Women: Essays in a Renaissance (1985)
(Source)
It is impossible to exaggerate the evil work theology has done in the world. What destruction of the beautiful monuments of past ages, what waste of life, what disturbance of domestic and social happiness, what perverted feelings, what blighted hearts, have always marked its baneful progress.
Lydia Maria Child (1802-1880) American abolitionist, activist, journalist, suffragist
The Progress of Religious Ideas Through Successive Ages, Vol. 3, “Concluding Chapter” (1855)
(Source)
Child is specifically referring to religious thinking and doctrine removed from sentiments of reverence, justice, and benevolence.
It is slow to stir, but nonetheless
it never fails, the strength
of gods.[ὁρμᾶται μόλις, ἀλλ᾽ ὅμως
πιστόν τι τὸ θεῖον
σθένος]Euripides (485?-406? BC) Greek tragic dramatist
Bacchæ [Βάκχαι], l. 882ff (Stasimon 3 (Ode 4), Antistrophe 1) [Chorus/Χορός] (405 BC) [tr. Kirk (1970)]
(Source)
(Source (Greek)). Alternate translations:
The tardy God arrives at length
His steadfast promise to fulfil,
Exulting in immortal strength.
Tremble, ye ministers of ill!
[tr. Wodhull (1809)]
Divine strength is roused with difficulty, but still is sure.
[tr. Buckley (1850)]
Slow come, but come at length,
In their majestic strength
Faithful and true, the avenging deities.
[tr. Milman (1865)]
Although he slowly shews his might,
God ever steadfast is and sure.
[tr. Rogers (1872), ll. 844-45]
Though slow be its advance, yet surely moves the power of the gods.
[tr. Coleridge (1891)]
Slowly on-sweepeth, but unerringly,
The might of Heaven.
[tr. Way (1898)]
O Strength of God, slow art thou and still,
Yet failest never!
[tr. Murray (1902)]
Slow but unmistakable
the might of the gods moves on.
[tr. Arrowsmith (1960)]
Slow, yet unfailing, move the Powers
of heaven with the moving hours
[tr. Vellacott (1973)]
Scarcely speeding, but all the same
the strength of the gods is certain.
[tr. Neuburg (1988)]
Slowly but implacably,
divine power moves.
[tr. Cacoyannis (1982)]
Scarcely it has started,
Yet still god's might is trust-
Worthy.
[tr. Blessington (1993)]
It starts out slowly
but still the strength of the gods
is trustworthy.
[tr. Esposito (1998)]
Never hurried, never
failing, a god's
fist.
[tr. Woodruff (1999)]
The unremitting power
Of the divine begins only
Slowly to move, but
Always moves.
[tr. Gibbons/Segal (2000)]
Slowly does heaven move, but still
its strength is [something] sure.
[tr. Kovacs (2002)]
Slow but unerring move the gods
Against the heedless man.
[tr. Teevan (2002)]
God’s justice might be late arriving but it does arrive.
[tr. Theodoridis (2005)]
Th'heavens might is scarcely set in
Motion, but it is not to be
doubted, a beacon to humans.
[tr. Valerie (2005)]
The power of the gods is difficult to stir -- but it's a power we can count on.
[tr. Johnston (2008)]
The might of heaven moves slowly, inexorably.
[tr. Robertson (2014)]
The strength of a god is not roused without need,
But when it is roused, it comes down.
Implacably.
[tr. Pauly (2019)]
Slowly they begin, but always the powers of heaven punish ....
[tr. Behr/Foster (2019)]
Divine strength is roused with difficulty, but is trustworthy nevertheless.
[tr. Buckley/Sens/Nagy (2020)]
Slow but sure moves the might of the gods.
[Bartlett's]
Liberal learning is both a safeguard against false ideas of freedom and a source of true ones.
Whitney Griswold (1906–1963) American historian, educator [Alfred Whitney Griswold]
“Freedom, Security, and the University Tradition,” speech, Columbia University Bicentennial (1954-06-02)
(Source)
Reprinted in Griswold, In the University Tradition (1957).
Quoted by John F. Kennedy in a speech at Yale University (1962-06-11). Citations of Kennedy for the quote are far more common than for Griswold's original.
The Mediator between Brain and Hands must be the Heart.
[Der Mittler zwischen Hirn und Händen muss das Herz sein.]
Thea von Harbou (1888-1954) German screenwriter, novelist, film director, actress
Metropolis, ch. 5 [Maria] (1925) [tr. (1927)]
(Source)
The novel was written to be the basis for the film by Von Harbou's husband, Fritz Lang. She also collaborated with him on the script. The movie began shooting before the novel was published.
In talking with the growingly restless workers of the city, Maria adds, shortly after the above line:
One will come, who will speak for you -- who will be the mediator between you, the Hands, and the man whose Brain and Will are over you all.
Von Harbau also included an epigraph at the beginning of the novel, which concludes (with a slightly different translation): "The mediator between brain and muscle must be the Heart."
People feel shameful to be poor and underprivileged in a well-run country. You should feel shameful if you are rich and aristocratic in a decadent and corrupt country.
[邦有道、貧且賤焉、恥也、邦無道、富且貴焉、恥也。]
Confucius (c. 551- c. 479 BC) Chinese philosopher, sage, politician [孔夫子 (Kǒng Fūzǐ, K'ung Fu-tzu, K'ung Fu Tse), 孔子 (Kǒngzǐ, Chungni), 孔丘 (Kǒng Qiū, K'ung Ch'iu)]
The Analects [論語, 论语, Lúnyǔ], Book 8, verse 13, sec. 3 (8.13.3) (6th C. BC – AD 3rd C.) [tr. Li (2020)]
(Source)
Brooks (below) says that this analect was added into Book 8 at the time of Book 14 being produced.
(Source (Chinese)). Alternate translations:
When a country is well-governed, poverty and a mean condition are things to be ashamed of. When a country is ill-governed, riches and honour are things to be ashamed of.
[tr. Legge (1861)]
Under a good government it will be a disgrace to him if he remain in poverty and low estate; under a bad one it would be equally disgraceful to him to hold riches and honours.
[tr. Jennings (1895)]
When there is justice and order in the government of his own country, he should be ashamed to be poor and without honour; but when there is no justice in the government of his own country he should be ashamed to be rich and honoured.
[tr. Ku Hung-Ming (1898)]
When law and order prevail in his State, he is ashamed to be needy and of no account. When law and order fail, he is ashamed to be in affluence and honour.
[tr. Soothill (1910)]
When a state is functioning, poverty and meanness are shameful; when a state is in chaos (ill governed) riches and honours are shameful. [Let us say: under a corrupt government.]
[tr. Pound (1933)]
When the Way prevails in your own land, count it a disgrace to be needy and obscure; when the Way does not prevail in your land, then count it a disgrace to be rich and honoured.
[tr. Waley (1938)]
If a state is following The Right Way, it is a disgrace to be in poverty and a low estate therein; if not, it is a disgrace to be rich and honored therein.
[tr. Ware (1950)]
It is a shameful matter to be poor and humble when the Way prevails in the state. Equally, it is a shameful matter to be rich and noble when the Way falls into disuse in the state.
[tr. Lau (1979)]
When the Way prevails in your own state, to be made poor and obscure by it is a disgrace; but when teh Way does not prevail in your own state, to be made rich and honourable by it is a disgrace.
[tr. Dawson (1993)]
In a country where the Way prevails, it is shameful to remain poor and obscure; in a country which has lost the Way, it is shameful to become rich and honored.
[tr. Leys (1997)]
When the state possesses the Way and you are poor and lowly, it is a shame; when the state loses the Way and you are rich and noble, it is also a shame.
[tr. Huang (1997)]
If the country is on the right way, it is the shame to be poor and low; If the country is not on the right way, it is the shame to be rich and honor.
[tr. Cai/Yu (1998), #201]
It is a disgrace to remain poor and without rank when the way prevails in the state; it is a disgrace to be wealthy and of noble rank when it does not.
[tr. Ames/Rosemont (1998)]
When the state has the Way, to be poor and humble in it is shameful; when the state has not the Way, to be wealthy and honored in it is shameful.
[tr. Brooks/Brooks (1998)]
When the Way rules in your country, there's shame in poverty and obscurity; when the Way's lost in your country, there's shame in wealth and renown.
[tr. Hinton (1998)]
In a state that has the Way, to be poor and of low status is a cause for shame; in a state that is without the Way, to be wealthy and honored is equally a cause for shame.
[tr. Slingerland (2003)]
When the state follows the Way, being poor and lowly is a cause for shame. When the state is without the Way, being rich and eminent is a cause for shame.
[tr. Watson (2007)]
When the moral way prevails in a state, being poor and lowly is a cause for shame. When the moral way does not prevail in the world, having wealth and position is a cause for shame.
[tr. Chin (2014)]
