Rotted Quotes

Authors: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Categories: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
if-i-didnt-have-job-i-might-have-stayed-in-bed-until-i-rotted-claire-cook
your-wealth-has-rotted-moths-have-eaten-your-clothes-james-52
do-you-think-my-mind-is-maturing-late-simply-rotted-early-ogden-nash
my-friend-m-says-irony-being-zombie-is-that-everything-is-funny-but-you-cant-smile-because-your-lips-have-rotted-off-isaac-marion
i-have-never-been-able-to-look-upon-america-as-young-vital-but-rather-as-prematurely-old-as-fruit-which-rotted-before-it-had-chance-to-ripen-henry-miller
then-he-made-one-last-effort-to-search-in-his-heart-for-place-where-his-affection-had-rotted-away-he-could-not-find-it-gabriel-garce-merquez
baltimore-is-warm-but-pleasant-i-belong-here-where-everything-is-civilized-gay-rotted-polite-f-scott-fitzgerald
money-is-like-any-other-virus-once-it-has-rotted-soul-person-who-houses-it-it-sets-off-in-search-new-blood-carlos-ruiz-zafon
at-bottom-there-is-no-perfect-history-there-is-none-such-conceivable-all-past-centuries-have-rotted-down-gone-confusedly-dumb-quiet-thomas-carlyle
autumn-is-leaving-its-mellowness-behind-for-its-spiky-rotted-stage-dont-remember-summer-even-saying-goodbye-david-mitchell
often-in-gothic-novels-theres-large-house-estate-its-symbolic-that-culture-usually-its-sort-moldering-rotted-something-sometimes-its-whole-joyce-carol-oates
for-humanstrapped-in-biologythere-was-no-mercy-we-lived-while-we-fussed-around-for-bit-died-we-rotted-in-ground-like-garbage-donna-tartt
also-consider-that-someday-when-youre-dead-rotted-kids-with-their-baby-teeth-will-sit-in-their-timegeography-class-laugh-about-how-stupid-you-were-chuck-palahniuk
weve-foreseen-what-it-means-to-kill-stepped-into-mind-rotted-remorseless-the-screams-echo-silence-forbidden-chant-masses-grips-chord-to-our-soul-broken-anatomy
there-was-young-lady-named-mae-who-smoked-without-stopping-all-day-as-pack-followed-pack-her-lungs-first-turned-black-and-eventually-rotted-away-edward-gorey
a-choir-seedlings-arching-their-necks-out-rotted-tree-stumps-sucking-life-out-death-i-am-forests-conscience-but-remember-forest-eats-itself-lives-forever-barbara-kingsolver
The universality of reason is a momentous realization, because it defines a place for morality. If I appeal to you do do something that affects me-to get off my foot, or not to stab me for the fun of it, or to save my child from drowning-then I can't do it in a way that privileges my interests of yours if I want you to take me seriously (say, by retaining my right to stand on your foot, or to stab you, or to let your children drown). I have to state my case in a way that would force me to treat you in kind. I can't act as if my interests are special just because I'm me and you're not, any more than I can persuade you that the spot I am standing on is a special place in the universe just because I happen to be standing on it. You and I ought to reach this moral understanding not just so we can have a logically consistent conversation but because mutual unselfishness is the only way we can simultaneously pursue our interests. You and I are both better off if we share our surpluses, rescue each other's children when they get into trouble, and refrain from knifing each other than we would be if we hoarded our surpluses while they rotted, let each other's children drown, and feuded incessantly. Granted, I might be a bit better off if I acted selfishly at your expense and you played the sucker, but the same is true for you with me, so if each of us tried for these advantages, we'd both end up worse off. Any neutral observer, and you and I if we could talk it over rationally, would have to conclude that the state we should aim for is the one where we both are unselfish. Morality, then, is not a set of arbitrary regulations dictated by a vengeful deity and written down in a book; nor is it the custom of a particular culture or tribe. It is a consequence of the interchangeability of perspectives and the opportunity the world provides for positive-sum games.

Steven Pinker
the-universality-reason-is-momentous-realization-because-it-defines-place-for-morality-if-i-appeal-to-you-do-do-something-that-affects-meto-get-off-my-foot-not-to-stab-me-for-fun
The fact is,' said Van Gogh, 'the fact is that we are painters in real life, and the important thing is to breathe as hard as ever we can breathe.' So I breathe. I breathe at the open window above my desk, and a moist fragrance assails me from the gnawed leaves of the growing mock orange. This air is as intricate as the light that filters through forested mountain ridges and into my kitchen window; this sweet air is the breath of leafy lungs more rotted than mine; it has sifted through the serrations of many teeth. I have to love these tatters. And I must confess that the thought of this old yard breathing alone in the dark turns my mind to something else. I cannot in all honesty call the world old when I've seen it new. On the other hand, neither will honesty permit me suddenly to invoke certain experiences of newness and beauty as binding, sweeping away all knowledge. But I am thinking now of the tree with the lights in it, the cedar in the yard by the creek I saw transfigured. That the world is old and frayed is no surprise; that the world could ever become new and whole beyond uncertainty was, and is, such a surprise that I find myself referring all subsequent kinds of knowledge to it. And it suddenly occurs to me to wonder: were the twigs of the cedar I saw really bloated with galls? They probably were; they almost surely were. I have seen these 'cedar apples' swell from that cedar's green before and since: reddish gray, rank, malignant. All right then. But knowledge does not vanquish mystery, or obscure its distant lights. I still now and will tomorrow steer by what happened that day, when some undeniably new spirit roared down the air, bowled me over, and turned on the lights. I stood on grass like air, air like lightning coursed in my blood, floated my bones, swam in my teeth. I've been there, seen it, been done by it. I know what happened to the cedar tree, I saw the cells in the cedar tree pulse charged like wings beating praise. Now, it would be too facile to pull everything out of the hat and say that mystery vanquishes knowledge. Although my vision of the world of the spirit would not be altered a jot if the cedar had been purulent with galls, those galls actually do matter to my understanding of this world. Can I say then that corruption is one of beauty's deep-blue speckles, that the frayed and nibbled fringe of the world is a tallith, a prayer shawl, the intricate garment of beauty? It is very tempting, but I cannot. But I can, however, affirm that corruption is not beauty's very heart and I can I think call the vision of the cedar and the knowledge of these wormy quarryings twin fjords cutting into the granite cliffs of mystery and say the new is always present simultaneously with the old, however hidden. The tree with the lights in it does not go out; that light still shines on an old world, now feebly, now bright. I am a frayed and nibbled survivor in a fallen world, and I am getting along. I am aging and eaten and have done my share of eating too. I am not washed and beautiful, in control of a shining world in which everything fits, but instead am wandering awed about on a splintered wreck I've come to care for, whose gnawed trees breathe a delicate air, whose bloodied and scarred creatures are my dearest companions, and whose beauty beats and shines not in its imperfections but overwhelmingly in spite of them, under the wind-rent clouds, upstream and down.

Annie Dillard
the-fact-is-said-van-gogh-fact-is-that-we-are-painters-in-real-life-important-thing-is-to-breathe-as-hard-as-ever-we-can-breathe-so-i-breathe-i-breathe-at-open-window-above-my-de
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