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Classics Quotes

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Classics Quotes

“And is not all of life material- based on the material- permeated by the material? Should not one learn, gladly, to utilize the beauty of the fine material? I do not speak of the gross crudities of soporific television, of loud brash convertibles and vulgar display- but rather of grace and line and refinement- and there are wonderful and exciting things that only money can buy, such as theater tickets, books, paintings, travel, lovely clothes- and why deny them when one can have them? The only problem is to work, to stay awake mentally and physically, and NEVER become mentally, physically, spiritually flabby or over complacent!”

“Over twenty-five hundred years into this experiment we call the West, is there any chance of reconciling the two competing worldviews that clashed so dramatically at the end of the fourth century AD? If so, then, as with any good compromise, there will be plenty of disappointment on both sides. People of reason may have to concede that modern science has its limits. Not everything of value can be weighed and measured. People of faith may have to admit that we can no longer afford legend over history, or obedience over curiosity. In a rapidly accelerating world Big Religion has failed to keep up with a younger generation that prefers fact over fiction. But Big Science and Big Technology may be going too fast, distracting us from the ancient search for meaning that defined the original religion of Western civilization. How do we bridge the gap?”

“What happened to the classics?" you may ask. "Don't you believe in reading great literature to children?" Nothing happened to the classics-but something happened to children: their imaginations went to sleep in front of the television set twenty-five years ago. Reading a classic to a child whose imagination is in a state of retarded development will not foster a love of literature in that child.”

“He suffered greatly from being shut up among all these people whose stupidity and absurdities wounded him all the more cruelly since, being ignorant of his love, incapable, had they known of it, of taking any interest, or of doing more than smile at it as at some childish joke, or deplore it as an act of insanity, they made it appear to him in the aspect of a subjective state which existed for himself alone, whose reality there was nothing external to confirm; he suffered overwhelmingly, to the point at which even the sound of the instruments made him want to cry, from having to prolong his exile in this place to which Odette would never come, in which no one, nothing was aware of her existence, from which she was entirely absent.”

“Well, Betsy," he said, "your mother tells me that you are going to use Uncle Keith's trunk for a desk. That's fine. You need a desk. I've often noticed how much you like to write. The way you eat up those advertising tablets from the store! I never saw anything like it. I can't understand it though. I never write anything but checks myself. " "Bob!" said Mrs. Ray. "You wrote the most wonderful letters to me before we were married. I still have them, a big bundle of them. Every time I clean house I read them over and cry." "Cry, eh?" said Mr. Ray, grinning. "In spite of what your mother says, Betsy, if you have any talent for writing, it comes from family. Her brother Keith was mighty talented, and maybe you are too. Maybe you're going to be a writer." Betsy was silent, agreeably abashed. "But if you're going to be a writer," he went on, "you've got to read. Good books. Great books. The classics.”

“Un día u otro había de morir. Hubiese habido un tiempo para tales palabras... El día de mañana, y de mañana, y de mañana se desliza paso a paso, día a día, hasta la sílaba final con que el tiempo se escribe. Y todo nuestro ayer iluminó a los necios la senda de cenizas de la muerte. ¡Extínguete, fugaz antorcha! la vida es una sombra tan solo, que transcurre,; un pobre actor que, orgulloso, consume su turno sobre el escenario para jamás volver a ser oído. Es una historia contada por un necio, llena de ruido y furia, que nada significa.”

“I am too mediocre to be now at Oxford (Apeejay House) and on going at India's best site in Publishing Interview of Authors.”

“Er was geen goed of slecht in de wereld; alles was zooals het wezen moest en het gevolg van een aaneenschakeling van oorzaken en redenen; alles had recht van bestaan; niemand kon iets veranderen aan wat was of zijn zou; niemand had een vrijen wil; ieder was een gestel, een temperament en kon niet anders handelen, dan volgens de eischen van dat temperament, overheerscht door omgeving en omstandigheden; dàt was de waarheid, die de menschen steeds met hun kinderachtig idealisme, zeurend over deugd en met een handjevol religieuze poëzie, zochten te bedekken….”

“The heroic books, even if printed in the character of our mother tongue, will always be in a language dead to degenerate times; and we must laboriously seek the meaning of each word and line, conjecturing a larger sense than common use permits out of what wisdom and valor and generosity we have. The modern cheap and fertile press, with all its translations, has done little to bring us nearer to the heroic writers of antiquity. They seem as solitary, and the letter in which they are printed as rare and curious, as ever. It is worth the expense of youthful days and costly hours, if you learn only some words of an ancient language, which are raised out of the trivialness of the street, to be perpetual suggestions and provocations. It is not in vain that the farmer remembers and repeats the few Latin words which he has heard. Men sometimes speak as if the study of the classics would at length make way for more modern and practical studies; but the adventurous student will always study classics, in whatever language they may be written and however ancient they may be. For what are the classics but the noblest recorded thoughts of man? They are the only oracles which are not decayed, and there are such answers to the most modern inquiry in them as Delphi and Dodona never gave. We might as well omit to study Nature because she is old.”

“We can make our mistakes and love each other despite how broken we are, how much we have hurt each other. We can love each other through the pain, because we a fighters, that is simply our nature. To keep fighting, no matter what. What does it matter if we do not fight for an honourable cause? You will be the death of me, and I you, and that is as honourable a death as any. I will die in your worship and you will die in mine.”