The essence of being human is that one does not seek perfection, that one is sometimes willing to commit sins for the sake of loyalty, that one does not push asceticism to the point where it makes friendly intercourse impossible, and that one is prepared in the end to be defeated and broken up by life, which is the inevitable price of fastening one’s love upon other human individuals.
—George Orwell, “Reflections on Ghandi”
Poems are hard to read
Pictures are hard to see
Music is hard to hear
And people are hard to love
But whether from brute need
Or divine energy
At last mind eye and ear
And the great sloth heart will move.
—William Meredith, “A Major Work”
Do not die out, fire. Enter my dreams, love. Be young forever, seasons of the Earth.
—Czeslaw Milosz, “Unattainable Earth”
That last one standing is him.
He is not expecting rain.
And even if it does rain
He’ll be good and god damned
If he’s going to lay down
With the rest of the cows.
He needs to go to town.
From the scrap of his
Own damaged heart he
Is building a new,
Flawed (but healthy) part,
And wiring it with
A fierce, desperate
Desire for goodness.
Leave a Reply Cancel reply