A Fairly Honourable Defeat Quotes

You are preserving your dignity by refusing to show your feelings. But there are moments when love ought to be undignified, extravagant, even violent.

They said of him, about the city that night, that it was the peacefullest man's face ever beheld there. Many added that he looked sublime and prophetic. One of the most remarkable sufferers by the same axe---a woman---had asked at the foot of the same scaffold, not long before, to be allowed to write down the thoughts that were inspiring her. If he had given an utterance to his, and they were prophetic, they would have been these: "I see Barsad, and Cly, Defarge, The Vengeance, the Juryman, the Judge, long ranks of the new oppressors who have risen on the destruction of the old, perishing by this retributive instrument, before it shall cease out of its present use. I see a beautiful city and a brilliant people rising from this abyss, and, in their struggles to be truly free, in their triumphs and defeats, through long years to come, I see the evil of this time and of the previous time of which this is the natural birth, gradually making expiation for itself and wearing out. "I see the lives for which I lay down my life, peaceful, useful, prosperous and happy, in that England which I shall see no more. I see Her with a child upon her bosom, who bears my name. I see her father, aged and bent, but otherwise restored, and faithful to all men in his healing office, and at peace. I see the good old man, so long their friend, in ten years' time enriching them with all he has, and passing tranquilly to his reward. "I see that I hold a sanctuary in their hearts, and in the hearts of their descendants, generations hence. I see her, an old woman weeping for me on the anniversary of this day. I see her and her husband, their course done, lying side by side in their last earthly bed, and I know that each was not more honoured and held sacred in the other's soul, than I was in the souls of both. "I see that child who lay upon her bosom and who bore my name, a man winning his way up in that path of life which once was mine. I see him winning it so well, that my name is made illustrious there by the light of his. I see the blots I threw upon it, faded away. I see him, foremost of just judges and honoured men, brining a boy of my name, with a forehead that I know and golden hair, to this place---then fair to look upon, with not a trace of this day's disfigurement---and I hear him tell the child my story, with a tender and faltering voice. "It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.

Human beings crave for novelty and welcome even wars. Who opens the morning papers without the wild hope of huge headlines announcing another great disaster? Provided of course that it affects other people and not oneself. Rupert liked order. But there is no man who likes order who does not give houseroom to a man who dreams of disorder. The sudden wrecking of the accustomed scenery, so long as one can be fairly sure of a ringside seat, stimulates the bloodstream. And the instinctive need to feel protected and superior ensures, for most of the catastrophes of mankind, the shedding by those not immediately involved of but the most crocodile of tears.

If you want to eat spaghetti you must use your teeth.’ Wittgenstein." "I don't think Wittgenstein really said any of those things you say he said!

The conversation in the Old Brompton Road was more like an experience of the inferno, but lovers are accustomed to fire.

El sexo es un invento absurdo que a pesar de serlo no aspira más que hincharse y penetrar. Se supone que tiene algo que ver con el amor, por lo menos ésa es su leyenda, pero el amor es un mito estimulante y aunque no lo fuese no podría tener relación alguna con el sexo. No mezclamos el amor con la comida, ¿verdad? Ni con el hipo o sonarse la nariz. ¿Y con la respiración? o con la circulación de la sangre o el funcionamiento del hígado. Entonces, ¿por qué relacionarlo con nuestro curioso impulso a meter partes de nosotros mismos dentro del cuerpo de otras personas? ¿O con ese otro impulso igualmente curioso de apretar nuestra maloliente boca y picados dientes en orificios igualmente blanduchos y salivosos de otros cuerpos?

—La gente no suele saber aplicar la filosofía. Dudo de que ni siquiera los filósofos sepan hacerlo. —La gente puede usar conceptos morales lo mismo que tú has usado ahora el concepto de la verdad para convencerme. Cualquiera puede hacerlo. —Quizá. Pero creo que la filosofía moral es algo que resulta desesperanzadamente personal. No puede ser comunicado. «Si un león hablase, no podríamos comprenderlo», ha dicho Wittgenstein.

Colonel Crawley’s defective capital. I wonder how many families are driven to roguery and to ruin by great practitioners in Crawlers way?— how many great noblemen rob their petty tradesmen, condescend to swindle their poor retainers out of wretched little sums and cheat for a few shillings? When we read that a noble nobleman has left for the Continent, or that another noble nobleman has an execution in his house — and that one or other owes six or seven millions, the defeat seems glorious even, and we respect the victim in the vastness of his ruin. But who pities a poor barber who can’t get his money for powdering the footmen’s heads; or a poor carpenter who has ruined himself by fixing up ornaments and pavilions for my lady’s dejeuner; or the poor devil of a tailor whom the steward patronizes, and who has pledged all he is worth, and more, to get the liveries ready, which my lord has done him the honour to bespeak? When the great house tumbles down, these miserable wretches fall under it unnoticed: as they say in the old legends, before a man goes to the devil himself, he sends plenty of other souls thither.

I see Barsad, and Cly, Defarge, The Vengeance, the Juryman, the Judge, long ranks of the new oppressors who have risen on the destruction of the old, perishing by this retributive instrument, before it shall cease out of its present use. I see a beautiful city and a brilliant people rising from this abyss, and, in their struggles to be truly free, in their triumphs and defeats, through long years to come, I see the evils of this time and of the previous time of which this is the natural birth, gradually making expiation for itself and wearing out. I see the lives for which I lay down my life, peaceful, useful, prosperous and happy, in that England which I shall see no more. I see Her with a child upon her bosom, who bears my name. I see her father, aged and bent, but otherwise restored, and faithful to all men in his healing office, and at peace. I see the good old man, so long their friend, in ten years’ time enriching them with all he has, and passing tranquilly to his reward. I see that I hold sanctuary in their hearts, and in the hearts of their descendants, generations hence. I see her, an old woman, weeping for me on the anniversary of this day. I see her and her husband, their course done, lying side by side in their last earthly bed, and I know that each was not more honoured and held sacred in the other’s soul, than I was in the souls of both. I see that child who lay upon her bosom and who bore my name, a man winning his way up in that path of life which once was mine. I see him winning it so well, that my name is made illustrious there by light of his. I see the blots I threw upon it, faded away. I see him, foremost of just judges and honoured men, bringing a boy of my name, with a forehead that I know and golden hair, to this place – then fair to look upon, with not a trace of this day’s disfigurement – and I hear him tell the child my story, with a tender and faltering voice. It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.

—Verá usted, todo empezó con unas cartas. —¿Cartas? —Si, los seres humanos deberían tener muchísimo más cuidado con las cartas. Son unas armas muy poderosas. Sin embargo, la gente las escribe en momentos de emoción y quienes las reciben no las destruyen.

—Hasta cierto punto estoy de acuerdo contigo —dijo Rupert— pero... —No hay “peros”, querido amigo, Kant nos mostró de modo concluyente que no podemos conocer la realidad. Sin embargo, seguimos creyendo obstinadamente que sí podemos. —¡Kant creía que tenemos atisbos de ella! ¡Eso era precisamente en lo que insistía! —Kant era estúpidamente cristiano. Y también nosotros lo somos, aunque lo neguemos. El cristianismo es una de las más grandiosas y brillantes fuentes de ilusión que la raza humana ha inventado.

—¿Me querrás siempre? —No tengo ni la menor idea. —Pues yo a ti te querré siempre. —Eso está bien. ¿Podremos meternos por ahí? —No, no creo... Tú eres Apolo y yo soy Marsyas. Acabarás dejándome. —Eso de Apolo y Marsyas es una buena imagen del amor. —¿Qué quieres decir? —Pues que la agonía de Marsyas es la inevitable agonía del alma humana en su deseo de llegar a Dios. —¡Cuántas cosas sabes!

Human beings are roughly constructed entities full of indeterminacies and vaguenesses and empty spaces. Driven along by their own private needs they latch blindly on to each other, then pull away, then clutch again. Their little sadisms and their little masochisms are surface phenomena. Anyone will do to play the roles. They never really see each other at all. There is no relationship, dear Morgan, which cannot quite easily be broken and there is none the breaking of which is a matter of any genuine seriousness. Human beings are essentially finders of substitutes.

—¿Por qué está mal robar? —Es cuestión de cómo se defina —dijo Julius. —¿Qué quiere usted decir? —Es una tautología. «Robar» es un concepto con un sentido peyorativo inevitable. Así, decir que robar está mal es sencillamente como decir que está mal lo que está mal. No es una afirmación significativa. Es una vaciedad. —Pero, en resumidas cuentas, ¿quiere usted decir que está mal? —No me ha comprendido usted —dijo Julius—. Observaciones como ésa no son en absoluto declaraciones y no pueden ser ciertas ni falsas. Son más bien como gritos o súplicas. Puede usted decir: «No robe, por favor» si quiere, siempre que se dé cuenta que nada hay detrás de esas palabras. Todo ello sólo son convencionalismos y sentimientos.

Los hombres adultos manifiestan la misma facilidad para hacer suposiciones metafísicas completamente absurdas que ellos encuentran consoladoras. Por ejemplo, la suposición de que el bien es reluciente y bueno mientras que el mal es tétrico o por lo menos muy oscuro. En realidad la experiencia contradice por completo esa suposición. El bien es aburrido. ¿Qué novelista ha logrado hacer interesante a un hombre bueno? Es característico de este planeta que la senda de la virtud sea tan deprimente que apague el espíritu de todo el que intenta seguirla de un modo consistente. El mal, por el contrario, es excitante y fascinador y siempre está vivo. También es mucho más misterioso que el bien. En efecto, se puede ver a través del bien. Es transparente. El mal es opaco.

And consider flesh too, if it comes to that. Who could have dreamed up such stuff? It's flabby and it stinks as often as not or it bulges and develops knobs and is covered with horrible hair and blotches. The internal combustion engine is at least more efficient, or take the piston rods on a loco-motive, and it's quite easy to oil them too. While keeping flesh in decent condition is almost impossible even leaving aside the obscene process of ageing and the fact that half the world starves. What a planet. And take eating, if you're lucky enough to do any. Stuffing pieces of dead animals into a hole in your face. Then munch, munch, munch. If there's anybody watching they must be dying of laughter. And the shape of the human body. Who but a thoroughly imcompetent craftsman or else some sort of practical joker could have invented this sort of moon on two sticks? Legs are a bad joke. Twinkle, twinkle, twinkle.

I see Barsad, and Cly, Defarge, The Vengeance, the Juryman, the Judge, long ranks of the new oppressors who have risen on the destruction of the old, perishing by this retributive instrument, before it shall cease out of its present use. I see a beautiful city and a brilliant people rising from this abyss, and, in their struggles to be truly free, in their triumphs and defeats, through long years to come, I see the evil of this time and of the previous time of which this is the natural birth, gradually making expiation for itself and wearing out. "I see the lives for which I lay down my life, peaceful, useful, prosperous and happy, in that England which I shall see no more. I see Her with a child upon her bosom, who bears my name. I see her father, aged and bent, but otherwise restored, and faithful to all men in his healing office, and at peace. I see the good old man, so long their friend, in ten years' time enriching them with all he has, and passing tranquilly to his reward. "I see that I hold a sanctuary in their hearts, and in the hearts of their descendants, generations hence. I see her, an old woman weeping for me on the anniversary of this day. I see her and her husband, their course done, lying side by side in their last earthly bed, and I know that each was not more honoured and held sacred in the other's soul, than I was in the souls of both. "I see that child who lay upon her bosom and who bore my name, a man winning his way up in that path of life which once was mine. I see him winning it so well, that my name is made illustrious there by the light of his. I see the blots I threw upon it, faded away. I see him, foremost of just judges and honoured men, brining a boy of my name, with a forehead that I know and golden hair, to this place---then fair to look upon, with not a trace of this day's disfigurement---and I hear him tell the child my story, with a tender and faltering voice. "It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.

I see Barsad, and Cly, Defarge, The Vengeance, the Juryman, the Judge, long ranks of the new oppressors who have risen on the destruction of the old, perishing by this retributive instrument, before it shall cease out of its present use. I see a beautiful city and a brilliant people rising from this abyss, and, in their struggles to be truly free, in their triumphs and defeats, through long years to come, I see the evil of this time and of the previous time of which this is the natural birth, gradually making expiation for itself and wearing out “I see the lives for which I lay down my life, peaceful, useful, prosperous and happy, in that England which I shall see no more. I see Her with a child upon her bosom, who bears my name. I see her father, aged and bent, but otherwise restored, and faithful to all men in his healing office, and at peace. I see the good old man, so long their friend, in ten years’ time enriching them with all he has, and passing tranquilly to his reward. “I see that I hold a sanctuary in their hearts, and in the hearts of their descendants, generations hence. I see her, an old woman, weeping for me on the anniversary of this day. I see her and her husband, their course done, lying side by side in their last earthly bed, and I know that each was not more honoured and held sacred in the other’s soul, than I was in the souls of both. I see that child who lay upon her bosom and who bore my name, a man winning his way up in that path of life which once was mine. I see him winning it so well, that my name is made illustrious there by the light of his. I see the blots I threw upon it, faded away. I see him, fore-most of just judges and honoured men, bringing a boy of my name, with a forehead that I know and golden hair, to this place—then fair to look upon, with not a trace of this day’s disfigurement—and I hear him tell the child my story, with a tender and a faltering voice

—No niegas que hay una causalidad… —dijo Morgan que estaba decidida a no enfadarse con él. Pero deseaba de todo corazón que se marchara. Julius se sentó en uno de los sillones, quitó un cojín y se puso cómodo. —Causalidad, en efecto. Si es que te refieres a algo como la ley de Grimm o la de Verner. Pero estas son simples observaciones de las regularidades superficiales y son en definitiva extremadamente aburridas. El lenguaje es un lío bastante útil con capacidad para maniobrar. Y no niego que estas maniobras podamos observarlas. Pero no son más que lo que son. Nada hay tras ellas. Imaginar que las hay, es infantilismo corriente del metafísico aplicado a esos temas que los disfrazan sin ninguna gracia de ciencia. —Parece que no te interesan los hechos —dijo Morgan—. La lingüística no es un sistema a priori, sino una extensión natural de la filología. Se deriva de los estudios empíricos de esas «maniobras» de las que hablaste tan a la ligera. ¿Por qué va a ser el lenguaje una montaña de accidentes? Nada más lo es en el mundo. Cualquier teoría trata de explicar, o por lo menos de desplegar, la multiplicidad basándose en la pauta profunda. Desde luego, las teorías lingüísticas son hipótesis, pero hipótesis en el sentido científico. —Dudo de que tus compañeros en la teoría estén de acuerdo —dijo Julius—. Sospecho que se figuran ser filósofos o matemáticos o algo así y que por ser el pensamiento humano principalmente verbal, han sondeado sus misterios y han inventado lo que imaginan ser una lengua ur. Lo cierto es que si abre uno sus libros tan aburridos se encuentra con que ni siquiera saben escribir la lengua que ellos hablan corrientemente. —Nadie niega que la filología comparada está en su infancia… —¡La «glosemática»! Desde luego, tenía que haber un nombre pseudocientífico. Supongo que la fonética se refiere a algo. La semántica empieza a perder contacto con la realidad. ¡Pero hemos de partir de la glosemática! ¡Qué vanidad la de los seres humanos! En todas sus decenas de miles de años esforzándose miserablemente, el único auténtico descubrimiento que han hecho son las matemáticas, y ese descubrimiento, incidentalmente, acabará con todos ellos muy pronto. Y ahonden en lo que sea, pretenden encontrar las matemáticas en el fondo de un agujero. Los pobres griegos eran típicos. ¡Y tú, la verdad es que me haces reír, con la formación intelectual de una maestra de sexto curso o de un crítico literario, te das importancia porque crees que estás manipulando un álgebra del lenguaje!

An enlightened public and a strong, independent Press must maintain strict impartiality in judging a major policy crisis arising out of a disagreement between the professional and political heads of the Armed Forces. The intrusion of fallacious concepts of Civil Supremacy will only stifle argument and still the professional voice till the time comes for rude awakening – as in 1962. In a serious divergence of opinion, which forces a Chief to submit his resignation, both the Service Chief and the politician must get a fair hearing at the bar of public opinion and during Parliamentary scrutiny. The high standards of the Western armies is largely due to this healthy and time-honoured custom. Any attempt to brow-beat a Service Chief or to pick one who is likely to conform is a self-defeating arrangement. The elimination of outspoken generals is unfair both to the Army as well as the Nation.

This book was inspired by these words.” “The young man was a blacksmith in the village, a magnificent white charger horse was brought to him, and he was ordered to put iron shoes onto the horse's hooves. After doing this he took the horse for a ride in the open field, and thereby a Brook he met a fair maiden. He fell madly in love with her instantly, he claimed that he was a decorated knight, but she could see he was poor, and was a blacksmith. His black working hands betrayed him, but she never mentioned this to the young man. After talking, for about fifteen minutes, in perfect harmony and calm, their meeting was broken up when two ladies that were approached the maiden.” “The maiden took out her handkerchief and gave it to him, he took it without taking his eyes off of her. The maiden dashed off running towards the two women, assuring them that she was alright. That evening a guard came from the castle, took the white charger with the new horseshoes and left. The dashing young man got to work instantly. Making himself a beautiful sword like no other. He then made himself a silver shining armour, beautiful as any knight.” “The young man made wooden replicas of men in battle, and he would practice for hours, finding new ways of defeating the enemy. All of this because of a chance meeting in a field, and the handkerchief he kept pressed against his chest. The danger was looming and there was talk of an invasion, from another country. To preserve the dignity and the honour of the village and the castle that employed all the villagers. “ “The king asked for volunteers for the impending battle. The blacksmith went to the castle as one of the volunteers. He showed up on an old brown horse, that would not be able to stand the first charge in battle. Proudly he was dressed in his silver knight's armour, holding his handmade sword. One of the guards came and took away his horse, the young man looked on sadly as others around the courtyard mocked him. Another guard approached him with the white charger that he nailed the shoes to his hooves; “this will be your steed, the guard said and he helped him onto the horse. There was silence around the forecourt, he turned and rode with the knights out to meet the enemy.” “After five hours of battle, they had secured a brave victory. The young man performed above and beyond the call of duty. He was chosen to be knighted. As he entered the great hall in the castle, there were people on both sides of the hall as he walked up to the spot where he was to be knighted. Waiting patiently, to perform the ceremony of knighthood, was none other than the king himself, and next to him, his young daughter, a princess he met by chance in a field, after the ceremony of knighthood, the princess stepped forward and said, thank you for bringing my horse back to me, a young woman who overlooked his poverty, have him her white horse, and encouraged him with giving him her handkerchief, by speaking to him in a field with kindness, her father the king was rewarded with a knight of chivalry and virtue. All because of accidental meeting and events, that encouraged someone ready in life, to step forth, and take control of his dreams, as impossible, as they seemed at the time.