Small In Number But Mighty Quotes

Just as a man has two parents, and four grandparents, and eight great-grandparents, and sixteen great-great-grandparents, and so on until when, say, forty generations are calculated the numbers of ancestors run into many millions — so it is with the number of causes behind even the most trifling event or phenomena, such as the passage of a tiny speck of soot before your eye. It is not an easy matter to trace the bit of soot back to the early period of the world's history when it formed a part of a massive tree-trunk, which was afterward converted into coal, and so on, until as the speck of soot it now passes before your vision on its way to other adventures. And a mighty chain of events, causes and effects, brought it to its present condition, and the latter is but one of the chain of events which will go to produce other events hundreds of years from now. One of the series of events arising from the tiny bit of soot was the writing of these lines, which caused the typesetter to perform certain work; the proofreader to do likewise; and which will arouse certain thoughts in your mind, and that of others, which in turn will affect others, and so on, and on, and on, beyond the ability of man to think further and all from the passage of a tiny bit of soot, all of which shows the relativity and association of things, and the further fact that "there is no great; there is no small; in the mind that causeth all.

40. From Those To Whom Much Is Given, Much Is Expected When I left school, I worked for six months running a series of self-defence classes around London to earn some money so I could go backpacking. Finally, I saved enough to travel to India, where I had always wanted to go and see the mighty Himalayas with my own eyes. I knew it would take my breath away. But it was the other things I witnessed in India that really blew my mind. In the back streets of Calcutta I saw sights that just should not happen: legless, blind, ragged bodies, lying in filth-strewn gutters, holding out their blistered arms to beg for a few rupees. I felt overwhelmed, inadequate and powerless - all at once. I sought out the mission run by Mother Teresa and saw there how simple things - cleanliness, calm, care and love - made a difference to those in need. These are not costly things to give, and the lesson I learnt was simple: that we all have it within our power to offer something to change a life, even if our pockets are empty. We’ve come to think of charity as being about big telethons or rock stars setting up foundations, but at its heart, charity is about small acts of kindness. No matter the circumstances in which you were brought up, no matter what your job or how much you earn, we all have the capacity to give something - whether it’s time, love or a listening ear to someone in need. And the thing to remember is this: don’t wait until you have more time, money or energy. Mother Teresa said: ‘Never worry about numbers. Help one person at a time and always start with the person nearest you.’ It is a great lesson, and the more we try to do this with whatever little we have, the more real success will gravitate toward us. People will love you back, your own sense of purpose and achievement will grow, and your life will have influence beyond the material. That is a great way to be known and to live your life. For the record: I am definitely still a work in progress on this one, but we all benefit from trying to aspire to this more. So look around you for those in need - you won’t have to look far - and your own life will grow in meaning. Success is not success unless you live this one.

Early in my happy adventures as a gigging musician, putting my ragbag of borrowed licks and boundless, puppyish enthusiasm before very kind audiences, I had an epiphany. Whatever my ambitions, I was not required to have mastered the piano completely before playing for people. The jazz world may be strewn with mighty saxophonists who turn up to gigs bellowing “any tune, any key, any tempo”. To me, they are God-like figures. But I did not have to be, indeed could never be, like them. Instead, I simply had to be able to play the tunes I was performing at that moment. Back then the audience did not need to know that there was not much else beyond the 10-song set they’d just heard. I would still be, and indeed remain, the best jazz pianist of all the British restaurant critics. There’s a lot to be said for being good over a narrow bandwidth; for doing a small number of things really well, rather than trying to prove your exhausting high-trapeze virtuosity.

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But for the time being, around my place at least, the air is untroubled, and I become aware for the first time today of the immense silence in which I am lost. Not a silence so much as a great stillness — for there are a few sounds: the creak of some bird in a juniper tree, an eddy of wind which passes and fades like a sign, the ticking of the watch on my wrist — slight noises which break the sensation of absolute silence but at the same time exaggerate my sense of the surrounding, overwhelming peace. A suspension of time, a continuous present. If I look at the small device strapped to my wrist the numbers, even the sweeping second hand, seem meaningless, almost ridiculous. No travelers, no campers, no wanderers have come to this part of the desert today and for a few moments I feel and realize that I am very much alone.… I wait. Now the night flows back, the mighty stillness embraces and includes me; I can see the stars again, and the world of starlight. I am twenty miles or more from the nearest fellow human, but instead of loneliness I feel loveliness. Loveliness and a quiet exultation. — EDWARD ABBEY AMERICAN FOREST RANGER

CHAPTER 38   Venial Sins       Though the sins of which we have been treating are those which we should avoid with most care, yet do not think that you are dispensed from vigilance in regard to venial sins. I conjure you not to be one of those ungenerous Christians who make no scruple of committing a sin because it is venial. Remember these words of Holy Scripture: "He that contemneth small things shall fall by little and little." (Ecclus. 19:1). "Do not despise venial sins because they appear trifling," says St. Augustine, "but fear them because they are numerous. Small animals in large numbers can kill a man. Grains of sand are very small, yet, if accumulated, they can sink a ship. Drops of water are very small, yet how often they become a mighty river, a raging torrent, sweeping everything before them!

I've made my thoughts clear enough on what I want from you.' He'd never met someone able to imply so much in so few words, in placing so much emphasis on you as to make it an outright insult. Cassian clenched his jaw. And didn't bother to restrain himself when he said, 'I'm tired of playing these bullshit games.' She kept her chin high, the portrait of queenly arrogance. 'I'm not.' 'Well, everyone else is. Perhaps you can find it in yourself to try a little harder this year.' Those striking eyes slid toward him, and it was an effort to stand his ground. 'Try?' 'I know that's a foreign word to you.' Nesta stopped at the bottom of the street, right along the icy Sidra. 'Why should I have to try to do anything?' Her teeth flashed. 'I was dragged into this world of yours, this court.' 'Then go somewhere else.' Her mouth formed a tight line at the challenge. 'Perhaps I will.' But he knew there was no other place to go. Not when she had no money, no family beyond this territory. 'Be sure to write.' She launched into a walk again, keeping along the river's edge. Cassian followed, hating himself for it. 'You could at least come live at the House,' he began, and she whirled on him. 'Stop,' she snarled. He halted in his tracks, wings spreading slightly to balance him. 'Stop following me. Stop trying to haul me into your happy little circle. Stop doing all of it.' He knew a wounded animal when he saw one. Knew the teeth they could bare, the viciousness they displayed. But it couldn't keep him from saying, 'Your sisters love you. I can't for the live of me understand why, but they do. If you can't be bothered to try for my happy little circle's sake, then at least try for them.' A void seemed to enter those eyes. An endless, depthless void. She only said, 'Go home, Cassian.' He could count on one hand the number of times she'd used his name. Called him anything other than you or that one. She turned away- toward her apartment, her grimy part of the city. It was instinct to lunge for her free hand. Her gloved fingers scraped against his calluses, but he held firm. 'Talk to me, Nesta. Tell me-' She ripped her hand out of his grip. Stared him down. A mighty vengeful queen. He waited, panting, for the verbal lashing to begin. For her to shred him into ribbons. But Nesta only stared at him, her nose crinkling. Stared, then snorted- and walked away. As if he were nothing. As if he weren't worth her time. The effort. A low-born Illyrian bastard. This time, when she continued onward, Cassian didn't follow. He watched her until she was a shadow against the darkness- and then she vanished completely. He remained staring after her, that present in his hands. Cassian's fingertips dug into the soft wood of the small box. He was grateful the streets were empty when he hurled the box into the Sidra. Hurled it hard enough that the splash echoed off the buildings flanking the river, ice cracking from the impact. Ice instantly re-formed over the hole he'd blown over. As if it, and the present, had never been.

And even though preternaturals routinely preyed on humans when they were alone or in small groups, everyone sane understood that humans in large numbers were both paranoid and extremely dangerous. Even a single lucky human could slay a mighty dragon. As time passed into the modern era their weapons and technology made them even more deadly. The annihilation of Hiroshima and Nagasaki had silenced even the insane.

Page 180: A fascinating contemporary parallel, and another example of destruction through centralization if a federal union harbors a single disproportionately large power, has been furnished by the short-lived United States of Indonesia. When it was created in December 1949, it was composed of sixteen member states of which one was so large that its subordination without its own consent was impossible … Page 183: … if our present unifiers really want union, they must have disunion first. If Europe is to be united under the auspices of the European Council, its participating great powers must first be dissolved to a degree that, as in Switzerland … none of its component units is left with a significant superiority in size and strength over the others. Page 187: This is why such attempts at international union as the European Council or the United Nations are doomed to failure if they continue to insist on their present composition. Compromising with their framework a number of unabsorbably great powers, they suffer from the deadly disease of political cancer. To save them it would be necessary to follow Professor Simons who said of the overgrown nation-states that: ‘These monsters of nationalism and mercantilism must be dismantled, both to preserve world order and to protect internal peace. Their powers to wage war and restrict world trade must be sacrificed to some supranational state or league of nations. Their other powers and functions must be diminished in favor of states, provinces, and, in Europe, small nations.’ This is, indeed, the only way by which the problem of international government can be solved. The great powers, those monsters of nationalism, must be broken up and replaced by small states; for, as perhaps even our diplomats will eventually be able to understand, only small states are wise, modest and, above all, weak enough, to accept an authority higher than their own. Page 190 But war is fortunately not the only means by which great powers can be divided. Engulfed in a swamp of infantile emotionalism, and attaching phenomenal value to the fact that they are big and mighty, they cannot be persuaded to execute their own dissolution. But, being infantile and emotional, they can be tricked into it.

Jacque explained it best. There was a mountain, she said. At its summit, there burned a great fire. The fire and its energy had created the mountain, and it was what continued to create it, regularly sending streams of molten earth cascading down the mountain’s side, where they would cool and harden and, ultimately, sustain life. Then one day, the mighty fire sent out spits of flame that landed in various places on the mountain’s side, kindling a number of smaller fires. There were many groups of people who lived on the mountain, but because the mountain was so large and the people’s communities so disparate, these groups of people remained strangers to each other. When they discovered the small fires, the people gathered near them for light and warmth. Each group did what they could to keep their fire alive. And each came to know their fire by a name they could understand. Some called the fire Christianity; another group knew it as Hinduism; another Islam or Tao. Each camp sought to learn the fire’s source. But because the mountain was so large, they could not see that there were other fires hidden in the trees, each as bright and compelling as their own. Nor could they understand that each of these small fires had emanated from the same source . . . a source so expansive it gave birth to itself . . . with as many names to know it by as there were people to know it.