The man who consciously owns a tree and knows how to use it and gives you thanks for it may not know its exact height or how widely the branches spread; but he is better off than the man who, while he has measured the tree and counted all its branches, neither owns it nor knows and loves its creator.
[Sicut enim melior est qui novit possidere arborem et de usu eius tibi gratias agit, quamvis nesciat vel quot cubitis alta sit vel quanta latitudine diffusa, quam ille qui eam metitur et omnes ramos eius numerat et neque possidet eam neque creatorem eius novit aut diligit.]
Augustine of Hippo (354-430) Christian church father, philosopher, saint [b. Aurelius Augustinus]
Confessions, Book 5, ch. 4 / ¶ 7 (5.4.7) (c. AD 398) [tr. Warner (1963)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
For as he is better off who knows how to possess a tree, and return thanks to Thee for the use thereof, although he know not how many cubits high it is, or how wide it spreads, than he that can measure it, and count all its boughs, and neither owns it, nor knows or loves its Creator.
[tr. Pusey (1838)]
But as he is happier who knows how to possess a tree, and for the use thereof renders thanks to Thee, although he may not know how many cubits high it is, or how wide it spreads, than he that measures it and counts all its branches, and neither owns it nor knows or loves its Creator.
[tr. Pilkington (1876)]
For as he is better off who knows how to possess a tree, and gives thanks for its use, though he knows not its height or breadth, than he who has accurate knowledge of its dimensions , and the number of its boughs, and yet does not own it, and neither knows nor loves its Creator.
[tr. Hutchings (1890)]
For as he who knows that he owns a tree, and gives thanks to thee for its use, although he knows not how many feet high it is, or how wide it spreads, is better than he who measures it and counts all its branches, yet neither owns it nor knows nor loves its Creator.
[tr. Bigg (1897), 5.4.2]
For just as he is better who knows he possesses a tree and gives thanks to You for the use it is to him, although he does not know how many cubits high it is or the width of its spread, than another man who can measure it and number its branches but neither possesses it nor knows and loves Him who created it.
[tr. Sheed (1943)]
For just as that man who knows how to possess a tree, and give thanks to thee for the use of it -- although he may not know how many feet high it is or how wide it spreads -- is better than the man who can measure it and count all its branches, but neither owns it nor knows or loves its Creator.
[tr. Outler (1955)]
A man who knows that he owns a tree, and gives thanks to you for its fruit, even though he may not know how many cubits high it is or how wide it spreads, is better than one who measures it and counts all its branches, but does not own it and does not know or love its creator.
[tr. Ryan (1960)]
A man who knows that he owns a tree and thanks you for the use he has of it, even though he does not know its exact height or the width of its spread, is better than another who measures it and counts all its branches, but neither owns it nor knows and loves its Creator.
[tr. Pine-Coffin (1961)]
For example, he is the better man who knows how to own a tree and thanks you for its usefulness, though he does not know how many cubits high it is, or how broad its spread, than the man who measures it, counts its branches, but never calls it his own or esteems the one who made it.
[tr. Blaiklock (1983)]
Someone who knows enough to become the owner of a tree, and gives thanks to you for the benefits it brings him, is in a better state, even if ignorant of its height in feet and the extent of its spread, than another who measures and counts all its branches but neither owns it nor knows its creator nor loves him.
[tr. Boulding (1997)]
Quotations about:
agriculture
Note not all quotations have been tagged, so Search may find additional quotes on this topic.
Farmers, pray for summers with lots of rain,
And winters with lots of sun.[Humida solstitia atque hiemes orate serenas,
agricolae.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
Georgics [Georgica], Book 1, l. 100ff (1.100) (29 BC) [tr. Ferry (2015)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Swaines pray for winters faire, and summers wet.
[tr. Ogilby (1649)]
Ye Swains, invoke the Pow'rs who rule the Sky,
For a moist Summer, and a Winter dry.
[tr. Dryden (1709), ll. 146-147]
Ye husbandmen! intreat the gods by pray'r
For wat'ry solstices, and winters fair.
[tr. Nevile (1767)]
Swains! pray for wintry dust, and summer rain.
[tr. Sotheby (1800)]
Pray, ye swains, for moist summers and serene winters.
[tr. Davidson (1854)]
For winters dry, and showery summers, pray.
[tr. Blackmore (1871), l. 116]
Pray for showery summers and dry winters, husbandmen.
[tr. Wilkins (1873)]
Pray for wet summers and for winters fine,
Ye husbandmen.
[tr. Rhoades (1881)]
Now pay thy vows: be this the ploughman’s prayer:
Bright be the winter day, and moist the summer air.
[tr. King (1882), ll. 99-100]
Pray, ye swains, for moist summers and serene winters.
[tr. Bryce (1897)]
Pray for dripping midsummers and clear winters, O husbandmen.
[tr. Mackail (1899)]
Pray for wet summers and for winters fine,
Ye husbandmen.
[tr. Greenough (1900)]
For drizzling summers and sunny winters, husbandmen, pray.
[tr. Way (1912)]
For summers moist and windless winters fair
Pray heaven, ye farmer-folk.
[tr. Williams (1915)]
For moist summers and sunny winters, pray, farmers!
[tr. Fairclough (Loeb) (1916)]
Wet midsummers and fair winters are what the farmer
Should ask for.
[tr. Day-Lewis (1940)]
Pray for wet midsummers, farmer friends,
And clear, cold winter skies.
[tr. Bovie (1956)]
Wet skies in midsummer and clear in winter
Farmers should pray for.
[tr. Wilkinson (1982)]
Farmers, pray for moist summers and mild winters.
[tr. Kline (2001)]
Farmers pray for wet summers and winters with clear blue skies.
[tr. Lembke (2004)]
The countryman should pray for wet summers and mild winters.
[tr. Fallon (2006)]
For humid summers and winters mild, pray, O farmers.
[tr. Johnson (2009)]
O farmers, pray that your summers be wet and your winters clear.
[Bartlett's]
Many wonders, many terrors,
But none more wonderful than the human race
Or more dangerous.
This creature travels on a winter gale
Across the silver sea,
Shadowed by high-surging waves,
While on Earth, grandest of the gods,
He grinds the deathless, tireless land away,
Turning and turning the plow
From year to year, behind driven horses.[πολλὰ τὰ δεινὰ κοὐδὲν ἀνθρώπου δεινότερον πέλει.
τοῦτο καὶ πολιοῦ πέραν πόντου χειμερίῳ νότῳ
χωρεῖ, περιβρυχίοισιν
περῶν ὑπ᾽ οἴδμασιν.
θεῶν τε τὰν ὑπερτάταν, Γᾶν
ἄφθιτον, ἀκαμάταν, ἀποτρύεται
ἰλλομένων ἀρότρων ἔτος εἰς ἔτος
ἱππείῳ γένει πολεύων.]Sophocles (496-406 BC) Greek tragic playwright
Antigone, l. 332ff, Stasimon 1, Strophe 1 [Chorus] (441 BC) [tr. Woodruff (2001)]
(Source)
Original Greek. Alternate translations:
Many the things that mighty be,
And nought is more might than -- MAN.
For he can cross the foaming ocean,
What time the stormy South is blowing,
Steering amid the mantling waves that roar around him.
And for his uses he wearieth
Earth, the highest Deity,
The immortal, the untiring one,
As year by year the ploughs are drawn
Up and down the furrow'd field,
To and fro his harness'd teams --
The seed of horses -- driving.
[tr. Donaldson (1848)]
Many wonders there be, but naught more wondrous than man;
Over the surging sea, with a whitening south wind wan,
Through the foam of the firth, man makes his perilous way;
And the eldest of deities Earth that knows not toil nor decay
Ever he furrows and scores, as his team, year in year out,
With breed of the yoked horse, the ploughshare turneth about.
[tr. Storr (1859)]
Many a wonder lives and moves, but the wonder of all is man,
That courseth over the grey ocean, carried of Southern gale,
Faring amidst high-swelling seas that rudely surge around,
And Earth, supreme of mighty Gods, eldest, imperishable,
Eternal, he with patient furrow wears and wears away
As year by year the plough-shares turn and turn, --
Subduing her unwearied strength with children of the steed.
[tr. Campbell (1873)]
Wonders are many, and none is more wonderful than man. This power spans the sea, even when it surges white before the gales of the south-wind, and makes a path under swells that threaten to engulf him. Earth, too, the eldest of the gods, the immortal, the unwearied, he wears away to his own ends, turning the soil with the offspring of horses as the plows weave to and fro year after year.
[tr. Jebb (1891)]
Wonders are many, and none is more wonderful than man; the power that crosses the white sea, driven by the stormy south-wind, making a path under surges that threaten to engulf him; and Earth, the eldest of the gods, the immortal, the unwearied, doth he wear, turning the soil with the offspring of horses,as the ploughs go to and fro from year to year.
[tr. Jebb (1917)]
Numberless are the world’s wonders, but none
More wonderful than man; the stormgray sea
Yields to his prows, the huge crests bear him high;
Earth, holy and inexhaustible, is graven
With shining furrows where his plows have gone
Year after year, the timeless labor of stallions.
[tr. Fitts/Fitzgerald (1939)]
Wonders are many on earth, and the greatest of these
Is man, who rides the ocean and takes his way
Through the deeps, though wide-swept valleys of perilous seas
That surge and sway.
He is master of ageless Earth, to his own will bending
The immortal mother of gods by the sweat of his brow,
As year succeeds to year, with toil unending
Of mule and plough.
[tr. Watling (1947), l. 279ff]
Many the wonders, but nothing walks stranger than man.
This thing crosses the sea in the winter's storm,
making his path through the roaring waves.
And she, the greatest of gods, the earth --
ageless she is, and unwearied -- he wars her away
as the ploughts go up and down from year to year
and his mules turn up the soil.
[tr. Wyckoff (1954)]
Wonders are many, yet of all
Things is Man the most wonderful.
He can sail on the stormy sea
Through tempest rage, and the loud
Waves roar around, as he makes his
Path amid the towering surge.
Earth inexhaustible, ageless, he wearies, as
Backwards and forwards, from season to season, his
Ox-team drives along the ploughshare.
[tr. Kitto (1962)]
Numberless wonders
terrible wonders walk the world but none the match for man --
that great wonder crossing the heaving gray sea,
driven on by the blasts of winter
on through breakers crashing left and right,
holds his steady course
and the oldest of the gods he wears away --
the Earth, the immortal, the inexhaustible --
as his plows go back and forth, year in, year out
with the breed of stallions turning up the furrows.
[tr. Fagles (1982), l. 376ff]
Many things cause terror and wonder, yet nothing
is more terrifying and wonderful than man.
This thing goes across the gray
sea on the blasts of winter
storms, passing beneath
waters towering ’round him. The Earth,
eldest of the gods,
unwithering and untiring, this thing wears down
as his plows go back and forth year after year
furrowing her with the issue of horses.
[tr. Tyrell/Bennett (2002)]
Wonders abound in this world yet no wonder is greater than man. None!
Through the wild white of a frenzied sea and through the screaming northerlies beneath him and through all the furious storms around him, through all this, man can pass!
And Gods’ most glorious Earth, the imperishable, untiring Earth, this man works with his horses and ploughs, year in, year out.
[tr. Theodoridis (2004)]
There are many strange and wonderful things,
but nothing more strangely wonderful than man.
He moves across the white-capped ocean seas
blasted by winter storms, carving his way
under the surging waves engulfing him.
With his teams of horses he wears down
the unwearied and immortal earth,
the oldest of the gods, harassing her,
as year by year his ploughs move back and forth.
[tr. Johnston (2005), l. 388ff]
This world has many wonders, but nothing is more wondrous than humanity. It crosses even the grey sea with a stormy south wind, passing under churning waves in open water; and the oldest of the gods, immortal, inexhaustible Earth, it wears away. With ploughs it winds back and forth, year after year, turning up the soil with the offspring of horses.
[tr. Thomas (2005)]
There are many wonders and none
is more surprising than humanity.
This thing that crosses the sea
as it whorls under a stormy wind
finding a path on enveloping waves.
It wears down imperishable Earth, too,
the oldest of the gods, a tireless deity,
as the plows trace lives from year to year
drawn by the race of horses.
[tr. @sentantiq (2019)]
For the Father of agriculture
Gave us a hard calling: he first decreed it an art
To work the fields, sent worries to sharpen our mortal wits
And would not allow his realm to grow listless from lethargy […]
So thought and experiment might forge man’s various crafts
Little by little, asking the furrow to yield the corn-blade,
Striking the hidden fire that lies in the veins of flint.[Pater ipse colendi
haud facilem esse viam voluit, primusque per artem
movit agros curis acuens mortalia corda
nec torpere gravi passus sua regna veterno […]
ut varias usus meditando extunderet artis
paulatim et sulcis frumenti quaereret herbam.
Ut silicis venis abstrusum excuderet ignem.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
Georgics [Georgica], Book 1, l. 121ff (1.121-124, 133-135) (29 BC) [tr. Day-Lewis (1940)]
(Source)
Telling how Jupiter made life on earth miserable for farmers so as to encourage the development of useful arts and crafts.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Nor was Jove pleas'd tillage should easie be:
And first commands with art to plough the soyle,
On mortall hearts imposing care, and toyle;
Nor lets dull sloth benumb men where he reigns [...]
That severall arts by labour might be found,
And men in furrows seek the grain that fell,
And hidden fire from veins of flint compell.
[tr. Ogilby (1649)]
The Sire of Gods and Men, with hard Decrees,
Forbids our Plenty to be bought with Ease:
And wills that Mortal Men, inur'd to toil,
Shou'd exercise, with pains, the grudging Soil.
Himself invented first the shining Share,
And whetted Humane Industry by Care:
Himself did Handy-Crafts and Arts ordain;
Nor suffer'd Sloath to rust his active Reign[...]
That studious Need might useful Arts explore;
From furrow'd Fields to reap the foodful Store:
And force the Veins of clashing Flints t' expire
The lurking Seeds of their Cœlestial Fire.
[tr. Dryden (1709), l. 183-190, 203-206]
Nor thou repine: great Jove, with tasks untry'd
To rouse man's pow'rs, an easier way deny'd;
And first bade mortals stir with art the plain,
Lest sloth should dim the splendors of his reign [...]
That gradual use might hew out arts from man,
That corn's green blade in furrows might be fought,
And from struck flints the fiery sparkle caught.
[tr. Nevile (1767), l. 147-150, 160-162]
Not to dull Indolence and transient Toil
Great Jove resign'd the conquest of the soil:
He sent forth Care to rouse the human heart,
And sharpen genius by inventive art:
Nor tamely suffer'd earth beneath his sway
In unproductive sloth to waste away. [...]
Jove will'd that use, by long experience taught,
Should force out various arts by gradual thought,
Strike from the flint's cold womb the latent flame,
And from the answering furrow nurture claim.
[tr. Sotheby (1800)]
The Sire himself willed the ways of tillage not to be easy, and first aroused the fields by art, whetting the skill of mortals with care; nor suffered he his reign to lie inactive in heavy sloth [...] that experience, by dint of thought, might gradually hammer out the various arts, in furrows seek the blade of corn, and form the veins of flint strike out the hidden fire.
[tr. Davidson (1854)]
Our heavenly Father hath not judged it right
To leave the road of agriculture light:
'Twas he who first made husbandry a plan.
And care a whetstone for the wit of man;
Nor suffer'd he his own domains to lie
Asleep in cumbrous old-world lethargy [...]
That practice might the various arts create,
On study's anvil, by laborious dint,
The plant of corn by furrows propagate,
And strike the fire that lurks in veins of flint.
[tr. Blackmore (1871), ll. 140-145, 154-157]
The wise Father of all willed not that the path of husbandry should be easy; he was the first to break up the earth by human skill, sharpening man's wit by the cares of life, nor suffering his own domains to lie asleep in cumbrous lethargy [...] in order that practice might by slow degrees hammer out art after art on the anvil of thought, might find the corn-blade by delving the furrow, and strike from veins of flint the fire that Jove had hid.
[tr. Wilkins (1873)]
The great Sire himself
No easy road to husbandry assigned,
And first was he by human skill to rouse
The slumbering glebe, whetting the minds of men
With care on care, nor suffering realm of his
In drowsy sloth to stagnate [...]
that use by gradual dint of thought on thought
Might forge the various arts, with furrow's help
The corn-blade win, and strike out hidden fire
From the flint's heart.
[tr. Rhoades (1881)]
For so great Jove, the sire of all, decreed,
No works save those that took us should succeed,
Nor wills his gifts should unimproved remain.
While man inactive slumbers on the plain. [...]
Man seeks for fire concealed within the veins
Of flints, and labour groans upon the plains;
Till, one by one, worked out by frequent thought,
Are crude inventions to perfection brought.
[tr. King (1882), ll. 123-126, 135-138ff]
Father Jove himself willed that the modes of tillage should not be easy, and first stirred the earth by artificial means, whetting the minds of men by anxieties; nor suffered he his subjects to become inactive through oppressive lethargy [...] in order that man’s needs, by dint of thought, might gradually hammer out the various arts, might seek the blade of corn by ploughing, and might strike forth the fire thrust away in the veins of the flint.
[tr. Bryce (1897)]
Our Lord himself willed the way of tillage to be hard, and long ago set art to stir the fields, sharpening the wits of man with care, nor suffered his realm to slumber in heavy torpor [...] that so practice and pondering might slowly forge out many an art, might seek the corn-blade in the furrow and strike hidden fire from the veins of flint.
[tr. Mackail (1899)]
The great Sire himself
No easy road to husbandry assigned,
And first was he by human skill to rouse
The slumbering glebe, whetting the minds of men
With care on care, nor suffering realm of his
In drowsy sloth to stagnate [...]
that use by gradual dint of thought on thought
Might forge the various arts, with furrow's help
The corn-blade win, and strike out hidden fire
From the flint's heart.
[tr. Greenough (1900)]
Allfather himself hath willed
That the pathway of tillage be thorny. He first by man's art broke
Earth's crust, and by care for the morrow made keen the wits of her folk,
Nor suffered his kingdom to drowse 'neath lethargy's crushing chain [...]
That Thought on experience' anvil might shape arts manifold,
And might seek in the furrow the blade that is pledge of the harvest's gold,
And smite from the veins of flint the fire-soul hidden there.
[tr. Way (1912)]
Great Jove himself ordained for husbandry
No easy road, when first he bade earth's fields
Produce by art, and gave unto man's mind
Its whetting by hard care; where Jove is king
He suffers not encumbering sloth to bide. [...]
He purposed that experience and thought
By slow degrees should fashion and forge out
Arts manifold, should seek green blades of corn
By ploughing, and from veins of flinty shard
Hammer the fire.
[tr. Williams (1915)]
The great Father himself has willed that the path of husbandry should not run smooth, who first made art awake the fields, sharpening men’s wits by care, nor letting his kingdom slumber in heavy lethargy [...] so that experience, from taking thought, might little by little forge all manner of skills, seeking in ploughed furrows the blade of corn, striking forth the spark hidden in the veins of flint.
[tr. Fairclough (Loeb) (1916)]
The Father willed it so: He made the path
Of agriculture rough, established arts
Of husbandry to sharpen wits,
Forbidding sloth to settle on his soil
[...] So that mankind
By taking thought might learn to forge its arts
From practice: seek to bring the grain from furrows,
Strike out the fire locked up in veins of flint.
[tr. Bovie (1956)]
Jupiter, father of the gods, decided himself
that the way of the farmer should not be an easy way.
He demanded craft; he tuned our nerves with worries;
he weeded lethargy from his human fields [...]
Thus men are supposed to have found the fire that hides
in the veins of flint. By clever meditation
experience elaborates to skill ...
One can see a triumph in it: the first furrow
sprouting a row of corn ....
[tr. Slavitt (1971)]
The father of cultivation himself did not want its way to be easy and wa first to change the fields by design, sharpening mortal wits with cares, not allowing his kingdoms to become sluggish with heavy old age [...] in order that experience and reflection should beat out skills little by little and seek grain stalks in the furrows, that they should strike out fire hidden in the veins of flint.
[tr. Miles (1980)]
The Father himself
Willed that the path of tillage be not smooth,
And first ordained that skill should cultivate
The land, by care sharpening the wits of mortals,
Nor let his kingdom laze in torpid sloth [...]
That step by step practice and taking thought
Should hammer out the crafts, should seek from furrows
The blade of corn, should strike from veins of flint
The hidden fire.
[tr. Wilkinson (1982)]
The great Father himself willed it,
that the ways of farming should not be easy, and first
stirred the fields with skill, rousing men’s minds to care,
not letting his regions drowse in heavy lethargy [...]
so that thoughtful practice might develop various skills,
little by little, and search out shoots of grain in the furrows,
and strike hidden fire from veins of flint.
[tr. Kline (2001)]
The Father himself hardly
willed that agriculture would be easy when he called forth
the field with his art, whetting human minds with worries,
not letting his kingdom slip into full-blown laziness. [...]
so that, using their brains, men might gradually hammer out
many skills, like searching for stalks of wheat by plowing,
and so that they might strike the spark held in veins of flint.
[tr. Lembke (2004)]
For it was Jupiter himself who willed the ways of husbandry be ones not spared of trouble and it was he who first, through human skill, broke open land, at pains to sharpen wits of men and so prevent his own domain being buried in bone idleness [...] so that by careful thought and deed you'd hone them bit by bit, those skills, to coax from furrows blades of corn and spark shy flame from veins of flint.
[tr. Fallon (2006)]
The Father himself willed the way of husbandry to be severe, first stirred by ingenuity the fields, honing mortal skill with tribulation, and suffered not his realm to laze in lumpish sloth [...] so that need with contemplation might forge sundry arts in time, might seek in furrows the blade of wheat and strike from flinty veins the hidden spark.
[tr. Johnson (2009)]
For Father Jupiter himself ordained
That the way should not be easy. It was he
Who first established the art of cultivation,
Sharpening with their cares the skills of men,
forbidding the world he rules to slumber in ease
[...] all this so want should be
The cause of human ingenuity,
And ingenuity the cause of arts,
Finding little by little the way to plant
New crops by means of plowing, and strike the spark
To ignite the hidden fire in veins of flint.
[tr. Ferry (2015)]
And he gave it for his opinion, that whosoever could make two ears of corn or two blades of grass to grow upon a spot of ground where only one grew before, would deserve better of mankind, and do more essential service to his country, than the whole race of politicians put together.
Jonathan Swift (1667-1745) English writer and churchman
Gulliver’s Travels, ch. 6 “Voyage to Brobdingnag” (1726)