At a certain level of wretchedness a kind of spectral indifference takes over, and you see human beings as ghostly presences. Those closest to you are often no more than vague shadowy forms, barely distinct from life’s nebulous background and easily reabsorbed by the invisible.
[À un certain degré de misère, on est gagné par une sorte d’indifférence spectrale, et l’on voit les êtres comme des larves. Vos plus proches ne sont souvent pour vous que de vagues formes de l’ombre, à peine distinctes du fond nébuleux de la vie et facilement remêlées à l’invisible.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 4 “Saint Denis,” Book 6 “Little Gavroche,” ch. 1 (4.6.1) (1862) [tr. Donougher (2013)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:At a certain depth of misery, men are possessed by a sort of spectral indifference, and look upon their fellow beings as upon goblins. Your nearest relatives are often but vague forms of shadow for you, hardly distinct from the nebulous background of life, and easily reblended with the invisible.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]In a certain stage of misery people are affected by a sort of spectral indifference and regard human beings as ghosts. Your nearest relatives are often to you no more than vague forms of the shadow, hardly to be distinguished from the nebulous back-ground of life, and which easily become blended. again with the invisible.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]When a certain degree of misery is reached, one is overpowered with a sort of spectral indifference, and one regards human beings as though they were spectres. Your nearest relations are often no more for you than vague shadowy forms, barely outlined against a nebulous background of life and easily confounded again with the invisible.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]There is a level of poverty at which we are afflicted with a kind of indifference which causes all things to seem unreal: those closest to us become no more than shadows, scarcely distinguishable against the dark background of our daily life, and easily lost to view.
[tr. Denny (1976)]At a certain depth of misery, people are possessed by a sort of spectral indifference, and look at their fellow beings as at ghosts. Your nearest relatives are often merely vague shadowy forms for you, hardly distinct from the nebulous background of life, and easily blended with the invisible.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]
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However, as we have just pointed out, brains which are absorbed in some bit of wisdom, or folly, or, as it often happens, in both at once, are but slowly accessible to the things of actual life. Their own destiny is a far-off thing to them. There results from such concentration a passivity, which, if it were the outcome of reasoning, would resemble philosophy. One declines, descends, trickles away, even crumbles away, and yet is hardly conscious of it one’s self. It always ends, it is true, in an awakening, but the awakening is tardy. In the meantime, it seems as though we held ourselves neutral in the game which is going on between our happiness and our unhappiness. We are the stake, and we look on at the game with indifference.
[Du reste, comme nous venons de l’indiquer, les cerveaux absorbés dans une sagesse, ou dans une folie, ou, ce qui arrive souvent, dans les deux à la fois, ne sont que très lentement perméables aux choses de la vie. Leur propre destin leur est lointain. Il résulte de ces concentrations-là une passivité qui, si elle était raisonnée, ressemblerait à la philosophie. On décline, on descend, on s’écoule, on s’écroule même, sans trop s’en apercevoir. Cela finit toujours, il est vrai, par un réveil, mais tardif. En attendant, il semble qu’on soit neutre dans le jeu qui se joue entre notre bonheur et notre malheur. On est l’enjeu, et l’on regarde la partie avec indifférence.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 3 “Marius,” Book 5 “The Excellence of Misfortune,” ch. 4 (3.5.4) (1862) [tr. Hapgood (1887)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:However, as we have just indicated, brains absorbed in wisdom, or in folly, or, as often happens, in both at once, are but very slowly permeable by the affairs of life. Their own destiny is far from them. There results from such concentrations of mind a passivity which, if it were due to reason, would resemble philosophy . We decline, we descend, we fall, we are even overthrown, and we hardly perceive it. This always ends, it is true, by an awakening, but a tardy one. In the meantime, it seems as though we were neutral in the game which is being played between our good and our ill fortune. We are the stake, yet we look upon the contest with indifference.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]As we have remarked, things of this world permeate very slowly brains absorbed in wisdom, or mania, or, as often happens, in both at once. Their own destiny is remote from them. The result of such concentrations is a passiveness which, were it of a reasoning nature, would resemble philosophy. Men sink, pass away, drift away, even crumble away without exactly noticing, though this always ends with a re-awakening, but a tardy one. In the meanwhile, it appears as if they are neutral in the game which is being played between their happiness and misery; they are the stakes, and look on at the game with indifference.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]In general, as we have already suggested, minds absorbed in wisdom or in folly, or in both at once as often happens, are little affected by the vicissitudes of daily life. Their personal destiny is a thing remote from them. Such detachment creates a state of acquiescence which, if it were the outcome of reflection, might be termed philosophical. But they submit to losses and reverses, even to physical decay, without being much aware of them. It is true that in the end there is an awakening, but it is late in coming. In the meantime they stand as it were aloof from the play of personal fortune and misfortune, pawns in a game of which they are detached spectators.
[tr. Denny (1976)]However, as we have just indicated, brains absorbed in wisdom, in folly, or, as often happens, in both at once, are permeated only slowly by the affairs of life. Their own destiny is far from them. From such concentrations of mind comes a passivity which, if due to reason, would resemble philosophy. We decline, we descend, we fall, we are even overthrown, and we hardly notice it. This always ends, it is true, in an awakening, but a tardy one. In the meantime, we seem neutrals in the game being played between our good and our ill fortune. We are the stake, yet we look on the contest with indifference.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]However, as we have just suggested, minds engrossed in wisdom or folly , or, as is often the case, in both at the same time, are only very slowly pervious to matters of everyday life. Their own destiny is far removed from them. resulting from this kind of concentration is a passivity, which, if there were any reasoning behind it, would seem philosophical. Such minds go into a decline, they sink, they languish, they even come to grief without really being aware of it. True, this always ends with an awakening, but a belated one. In the meantime it is as if they had no interest in the game that plays out between their happiness and their unhappiness. They who are themselves as stake watch the game with indifference.
[tr. Donougher (2013)]
Most persons have died before they expire — died to all earthly longings, so that the last breath is only, as it were, the locking of the doors of the already deserted mansion.
I am not ready to die,
But I am learning to trust death
As I have trusted life.
I am moving
Toward a new freedom
Born of detachment,
And a sweeter grace —
Learning to let go.May Sarton (1912-1995) Belgian-American poet, novelist, memoirist [pen name of Eleanore Marie Sarton]
“Gestalt at Sixty,” sec. 3 (1972)
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In the face of evil, detachment is a dubious virtue.
Barbara Grizzuti Harrison (1934-2002) American journalist, essayist, memoirist
“Budapest, Winter 1989,” The Astonishing World (1992)
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The biggest sin is sitting on your ass.
Florynce "Flo" Kennedy (1916-2000) American lawyer, feminist, civil rights activist
(Attributed)
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Quoted in Gloria Steinem, "The Verbal Karate of Florynce R. Kennedy, Esq.," Ms. (Mar 1973).
Full quote: "Some people say they won’t work 'inside the system' -- they’re 'waiting for the revolution.' Well, when the ramparts are open, honey, I'll be there. But until then, I'm going to go right on zapping the business and government delinquents, the jockocrats, the fetus fetishists, and all the other niggerizers any way I can. The biggest sin is sitting on your ass."
No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning. I keep on swallowing.
At other times it feels like being mildly drunk, or concussed. There is a sort of invisible blanket between the world and me. I find it hard to take in what anyone says. Or perhaps, hard to want to take it in. It is so uninteresting. Yet I want the others to be about me. I dread the moments when the house is empty. If only they would talk to one another and not to me.C. S. Lewis (1898-1963) English writer, literary scholar, lay theologian [Clive Staples Lewis]
A Grief Observed, ch. 1 (1961)
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After the death of his wife, Joy Davidman. Opening words.
Emotion, whether of ridicule, anger, or sorrow, — whether raised at a puppet show, a funeral, or a battle, — is your grandest of levelers. The man who would be always superior should be always apathetic.
Edward George Bulwer-Lytton (1803-1873) English novelist and politician
Devereux, Book 2, ch. 1 (1829)
What’s wan man’s news is another man’s throubles.
[What’s one man’s news is another man’s troubles.]
Finley Peter Dunne (1867-1936) American humorist and journalist
“The News of a Week,” Observations by Mr. Dooley (1902)
LEONATO: For there was never a philosopher
That could endure the toothache patiently.William Shakespeare (1564-1616) English dramatist and poet
Much Ado About Nothing, Act 5, sc. 1, l. 37ff (5.1.37-38) (1598)
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