"biography"タグの名言

Biography is one of the new terrors of death.

How often do we tell our own life story? How often do we adjust, embellish, make sly cuts? And the longer life goes on, the fewer are those around to challenge our account, to remind us that our life is not our life, merely the story we have told about our life. Told to others, but—mainly—to ourselves.

if you want it really, you get it !!!

I started studying law, but this I could stand just for one semester. I couldn't stand more. Then I studied languages and literature for two years. After two years I passed an examination with the result I have a teaching certificate for Latin and Hungarian for the lower classes of the gymnasium, for kids from 10 to 14. I never made use of this teaching certificate. And then I came to philosophy, physics, and mathematics. In fact, I came to mathematics indirectly. I was really more interested in physics and philosophy and thought about those. It is a little shortened but not quite wrong to say: I thought I am not good enough for physics and I am too good for philosophy. Mathematics is in between.

The aim of science is to discover and illuminate truth. And that, I take it, is the aim of literature, whether biography or history... It seems to me, then, that there can be no separate literature of science.

All true histories contain instruction; though, in some, the treasure may be hard to find, and when found, so trivial in quantity, that the dry, shriveled kernel scarcely compensates for the trouble of cracking the nut.

When we begin to reflect Christ, the Bible, when more understood as being centered around Christ, seems to be potentially every man's biography regarding God's promised experiences and truth for him - his individual, unique path of humbling oneself before the Lord and then being exalted by the Lord back into his true and righteous personhood. Many followers may speak of it merely to try to change other people (before changing themselves), but the prophets speak of it as a living word which miraculously tells their very own experiences.

Much have I seen and known - cities of men and manners, climates, councils, governments.

Mistakes? That's why they put erasers on pencils.

The features of character are carved out of adversity.

If the mystery can be reduced to one solution, it lies in a simple coincidence: Rimbaud's interest in his own work had survived the realization that the world would not be changed by verbal innovation. It did not survive the failure of all his adult relationships. He had always treated poems as a form of private communication. He gave his songs to chansonniers, his satires to satirists. Without a constant companion, he was writing in a void.

The awful part of the writing game is that you can never be sure the stuff is any good.

Stop letting your haters write your bio.

The hidden secrets and immoral values were slowly sucking the natural beauty out of my native town. I’d become detached, perhaps traumatized. Even the memories of the sweetest coconut water, mangos, and sugar cane couldn’t make up for my discontentment.” Tested Innoence by Bernadette Jeudy - 2019

For when I trace back the years I have liv'd, gathering them up in my Memory, I see what a chequer'd Work Of Nature my life has been. If I were now to inscribe my own History with its unparalleled Sufferings and surprizing Adventures (as the Booksellers might indite it), I know that the great Part of the World would not believe the Passages there related, by reason of the Strangeness of them, but I cannot help their Unbelief; and if the Reader considers them to be but dark Conceits, then let him bethink himself that Humane life is quite out of the Light and that we are all Creatures of Darknesse.

A sacrifice to be real must cost, must hurt, and must empty ourselves. Give yourself fully to God. He will use you to accomplish great things on the condition that you believe much more in his love than in your weakness.

It is very difficult to attain Self abidance, but once it is attained it is retained effortlessly and never lost. It is a little like putting a rocket into space. A great effort and a great energy are necessary to escape the earth's gravitational field. If the rocket is not going fast enough, gravity will pull it back to earth. But once it has escaped the pull of gravity it can stay out in space quite effortlessly without falling back to earth. (From Annamalai Swami)

وحتَّى عندما ارتبك المسار لم يهتز اليقين. لأنني ساذجة؟ لأنني متفائلة إلى حد البلاهة؟ لأنني أؤمن بقشّة الغريق فلا أفلتها أبدًا من يدي؟ ربما، وإن كنت لا اعتقد ذلك؛ لأن الحياة في نهاية المطاف تغلب، وإن بدا غير ذلك. ولأن البشر راشدون مهما ارتبكوا او اضطربوا او تعثَّرت خطواتهم، ولأن التاريخ كما سبق أن قلت في مكان ما أشبه ببستان مكنون في باطن الأرض، له مسالكه وتعرُّجاته ومجاريه المتشابكه، ولأن النهايات ليست نهايات؛ لأنها تتشابك ببدايات جديدة، لا أفكر الآن في أبي وأمي وذريتهم الممتدة إلى عمر الصغير، أصغر الأحفاد ابن مصطفى وزوجته دينا، بل اتوسّع في الكلام ليشمل شهداءنا. أفكر في مينا دانيال، وعماد عفت، ومحمد محسن، وعلاء عبد الهادي، وجيكا، وأنس، والمئات الآخرين ممن نُقِلوا من المشرحة إلى مقابر تضم رفاتهم. وأعرف أن قبورهم لن تذهب بددا، تظل رسائلها الباطنية تسري في الأرض، تروي البُستان المكنون الذي يُفاجئنا بطرحِه.

لا يُشغلني موقعي من الإعراب في ثورة لم أُخطِّط لها، ولم أُشارِك فيها بشكل مُباشر بل غبت اضطرارًا عن كل نشاطاتها في شهورها الاربعة الاولى، وحين شاركت كانت المُشاركة خافته وهامشية؛ لأنني لم أتعاف تماما من مرضي؛ ولأنني ستينية، قُدراتي على الكرّ والفرّ محدودة؛ ولأن آداتي الأجدى والأكثر نفعًا (أعني الكتابة) بدت لي غير مُمكِنَة؛ لأنني هيَّابة، لا أثق في قُدرتي على إضافة جديد من خلالها، والأهم أنني كُنت أتوجَّس من فكرة القفز أمام أولئك الشباب وإعاقتهم أو إرباكهم، وإن حسنت النوايا، برؤية قاصِرة أو توجيهات تنتمي لجيل سابق وتجربة مُغايرة. ما يشغلني هو تأمُّل دفق الحياة من زمن إلى زمن، ومن جيل إلى جيل تال، يهدر بقانونه الخاص ويكتسب صفاء وقوَّة كلما حرص على استقلاله.

تساءلت إن كان الفارِق بين كاتِب التقارير البائس، والبلطجي مفتول العضلات مجرد فارق في نوع الوظيفة، أم هو فارِق بين زمنين واسلوبين، القمع المستور، والقمع المُعلَن؟ الأوَّل يلدغك كالحيَّة دون جَلبة أو صوت، والثاني فاجر في عدوانيته، يُطلِق صيحاته في وجهك ويُحرِّك ذراعيه على امتدادهما، يُرهبك بنظراته وصوته العالي قبل أن يُخرِج السكين الذي يطعنك بِه.