Shakespeare quote about his world

[factseeker88]

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.



[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]When we remember [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]we are all mad, [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]the mysteries disappear and life stands explained. Mark Twain[/FONT]


“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]What we think, or what we know, or what we believe is, in the end, of little consequence. [/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]The only consequence is WHAT WE DO.”[/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif][/FONT][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]John Ruskin (1819 - 1900) [/FONT]

 

[Shuttlecraft]

"Out, out brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow,
a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage
and then is heard no more.
It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."
- Macbeth

 

[Quagmire]

"Life is what it is. If it wasn't, it wouldn't be, would it?"
---Naykidape

 

[factseeker88]

"Out, out brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow,
a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage
and then is heard no more.
It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."
- Macbeth

Yeah, I have always liked that one. Here is more my favorites<

This above all; to thine own self be true.


These are about simple minded Republicans and their simple minded talking heads,,,


Hell is empty and all the devils are here.


A fool thinks himself to be wise, but a wise man knows himself to be a fool.

God has given you one face, and you make yourself another.

There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so.



We know what we are, but know not what we may be.

There is no darkness but ignorance.

Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind.

The empty vessel makes the loudest sound.

Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot that it do singe yourself.

False face must hide what the false heart doth know.

To do a great right do a little wrong.

In a false quarrel there is no true valor.


Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.

Tis not enough to help the feeble up, but to support them after.








Words, words, mere words, no matter from the heart.

Words without thoughts never to heaven go.

Let no such man be trusted.

 

[Shuttlecraft]

When Hamlet first saw the ghost of his dead dad, he still had the good sense to wonder whether it was a demon sent to lead him up the garden path-

"Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damned,
Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell,
Be thy intents wicked or charitable"..(Hamlet Act 1 Sc 4)

Perhaps this warning was running through his mind-
"...for Satan himself masquerades as an angel of light." (2 Cor 11:13/14)

 

[Shuttlecraft]

But the play that really takes the biscuit is Macbeth because it's a perfect study of how satanic forces can detect human flaws and zero in on them to make them flare up.
At the start of the play Macbeth is a much-loved scottish national hero, but by the end of it he's become a hated despotic tyrant.
Too late he realises he's been well and truly led up the garden path by the satanic 3 witches-

"And be these juggling fiends no more believed,
That palter with us in a double sense,
That keep the word of promise to our ear,
And break it to our hope"

 

[lewisnotmiller]

I've posted it before, but I've ALWAYS liked Sonnet 130...we had it as a reading at our wedding, which mighta struck some as strange, but we thought was totally appropriate.

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

 

[LegionOnomaMoi]

The world, it was the old world yet
I was I, my things were wet
And nothing now remained to do
But begin the game anew
Therefore since the world has still
Much good, but much less good than ill
And while the sun and moon endure
Luck’s a chance, but trouble’s sure
I’d face it as a wise man would
And train for ill, and not for good
- AE Housman

"I have seen all the product of everything done under the sun, and see! It is all emptiness and suffering." Eccl. 1:14 (translation mine, and an attempt to best reconcile the LXX and Hebrew).

"What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals—and yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust?" -Shakespeare's Hamlet

"rien, rien n'avait d'importance.../nothing, nothing is of significance" Camus' L'estranger

"Wohin ist Gott?...ich will es euch sagen! Wer haben ihn getötet..Was taten wir, als wir diese Erde von ihrer Sonne losketteten? Wohin bewegt sie sich nun? Wohin bewegen wir uns? Fort von allen Sonnen? Stürzen wir nicht fortwährend? ...Irren wir nicht wie durch ein unendliches Nichts? Haucht uns nicht der leere Raum an? Ist es nicht kälter geworden? Kommt nicht immerfort die Nacht und mehr Nacht? "
"Where is God? I will tell you. We have killed him...What did we do, when we loosed this earth from its sun? Where is it going now? Where are we ourselves going? Away from all suns? Do we not plummet unceasingly?...Do we not stay as though through an unending nothingness? Does not the void breath upon us? Has it not become colder? Comes there now not ever night and more night?" Nietzsche's Der fröhliche Wissenschaft.

"Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing." Shakespeare's Macbeth.

"Il n'y a qu'un problème philosophique vraiment sérieux : c'est le suicide. Juger que la vie vaut ou ne vaut pas la peine d'être vécue, c'est répondre à la question fondamentale de la philosophie. Le reste, si le monde a trois dimensions, si l'esprit a neuf ou douze catégories, vient ensuite."

[There is only the one truly important philosophical problem: there is suicide. To decide that life is worthwhile, or is not worth the trouble of living, is to answer the fundamental question of philosophy. The rest (whether the earth has three dimensions, whether the "mind" has nine or twelve categories) follows after.]

quid est quod fuit ipsum quod futurum est quid est quod factum est ipsum quod fiendum est [10] nihil sub sole novum nec valet quisquam dicere ecce hoc recens est iam enim praecessit in saeculis quae fuerunt ante nos [11] non est priorum memoria sed nec eorum quidem quae postea futura sunt erit recordatio apud eos qui futuri sunt in novissimo

Im Moment, da man nach Sinn und Wert des Lebens fragt, ist man krank, denn beides gibt es ja in objektiver Weise nicht; man hat nur eingestanden, daß man einen Vorrat von unbefriedigter Libido hat, und irgend etwas anderes muß damit vorgefallen sein, eine Art Gärung, die zur Trauer und Depression führt. Großartig sind meine Aufklärungen gewiß nicht. Vielleicht weil ich selbst zu pessimistisch bin. Mir geht ein 'advertisement' im Kopf herum, das ich für das kühnste und gelungenste Stück amerikanischer Reklame halte: "Why live, if you can be buried for ten Dollars?"
Sigmund Freud an Marie Bonaparte, 13. August 1937

The moment a man questions the meaning and value of life, he is sick, since objectively neither has any existence; by asking this question one is merely admitting to a store of unsatisfied libido to which something else must have happened, a kind of fermentation leading to sadness and depression. I am afraid these explanations of mine are not very wonderful. Perhaps because I am too pessimistic. I have an advertisement floating about in my head which I consider the boldest and most successful piece of American publicity: ‘Why live, if you can be buried for ten dollars?’” (Sigmund Freud in a letter to Marie Bonaparte, 13 August 1937, in Letters of Sigmund Freud 1873-1939, ed. Ernst L. Freud, trans. Tania and James Stern(London: Hogarth Press, 1961), p 432).`

 

[factseeker88]

[There is only the one truly important philosophical problem: there is suicide. To decide that life is worthwhile, or is not worth the trouble of living, is to answer the fundamental question of philosophy.

The moment a man questions the meaning and value of life, he is sick, since objectively neither has any existence; by asking this question one is merely admitting to a store of unsatisfied libido to which something else must have happened, a kind of fermentation leading to sadness and depression.

Myself, I'm not Nihilistic. I just try to do the things I've always done, and hope for the best. Sometimes It's pleasure, sometimes pain, not the end of the world.

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained. Mark Twain[/FONT]


“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif][FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]No lesson is so deeply inculcated by the experience of life as that you should NEVER TRUST EXPERTS.” Lord Salisbury[/FONT][/FONT]

 

[LegionOnomaMoi]

Myself, I'm not Nihilistic. I just try to do the things I've always done

There is nothing new under the sun.

and hope for the best

And faith 'tis pleasant 'till tis past
the mischief is that will not last

Sometimes It's pleasure, sometimes pain,

For who would bear the whips and scorns...

not the end of the world.

This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang, but a whimper.

When we remember we are all mad

Der tolle Mensch. Apparently I've come to soon.