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)]
Quotations about:
matters
Note not all quotations have been tagged, so Search may find additional quotes on this topic.
People who are too much concerned with little things usually become incapable of big ones.
[Ceux qui s’appliquent trop aux petites choses deviennent ordinairement incapables des grandes.]François VI, duc de La Rochefoucauld (1613-1680) French epigrammatist, memoirist, noble
Réflexions ou sentences et maximes morales [Reflections; or Sentences and Moral Maxims], ¶41 (1665-1678) [tr. Kronenberger (1959)]
(Source)
Present from the 1665 edition. See here for more discussion (English).
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:They that use to employ their minds too much upon Trifles, commonly make themselves incapable of any thing that is serious or great.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶42]Those who apply themselves too much to little things, commonly become incapable of great ones.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶38; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶41]]Those who apply themselves much to little things, commonly become incapable of great ones.
[ed. Carville (1835), ¶35]Those who bestow too much application on trifling things, become generally incapable of great ones.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶42]Those who apply themselves too closely to little things often become incapable of great things.
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871)]Undue attention to details tends to unfit us for greater enterprises.
[tr. Heard (1917)]Too close attention to trifles generally breeds incapacity in matters of moment.
[tr. Stevens (1939)]Men too involved in details usually become unable to deal with great matters.
[tr. FitzGibbon (1957)]People too much taken up with little things usually become incapable of big ones.
[tr. Tancock (1959)]Those who apply themselves too much to little things, ordinarily become incapable of great ones.
[tr. Whichello (2016)]
‘Tis for little Souls, that truckle under the Weight of Affairs, not to know how clearly to disengage themselves, and not to know how to lay them aside, and take them up again.
[C’est aux petites ames ensevelies du poix des affaires, de ne s’en sçavoir purement desmesler : de ne les sçavoir et laisser et reprendre.]Michel de Montaigne (1533-1592) French essayist
Essays, Book 3, ch. 13 “On Experience [De l’Experience]” (1588) (3.13) (1595) [tr. Cotton (1686)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:It is for base and pettie mindes, dulled and overwhelmed with the weight of affaires, to be ignorant how to leave them, and not to know how to free themselves from them; nor how to leave and take them againe.
[tr. Florio (1603)]’Tis for little souls, that truckle under the weight of affairs, not from them to know how clearly to disengage themselves, not to know how to lay them aside and take them up again.
[tr. Cotton/Hazlitt (1877)]It is for small souls, buried under the weight of affairs, not to know how to free themselves therefrom entirely; not to know how to leave them and return to them.
[tr. Ives (1925)]It is for little souls, buried under the weight of business, to be unable to detach themselves cleanly from it or to leave it and pick it up again.
[tr. Frame (1943)]It is for petty souls overwhelmed by the weight of affairs to be unable to disentangle themselves for them completely, not knowing how to drop them and then take them up again.
[tr. Screech (1987)]