Quotes About Humanity

A note to confirmed pessimists: Prigogine's analysis is based on probability-theory and, hence, is not certain. Thus, if you have found these lyrical pages unduly alarming, take comfort in the thought that, although human success is highly probable, there is still a small chance that we can blow ourselves up or that your favorite apocalyptic scenarios might still occur, despite the general trend toward higher coherence and higher intelligence.

Once again, it appears that the materialist model of mechanical consciousness covers some but not all experience, and it excludes precisely that part of experience which makes us human, esthetic, moral and responsible beings. One may suspect that this is why the materialist age has become increasingly inhuman, ugly, amoral and blindly irresponsible.

Don't you think we all go a little mad sometimes? —Psycho

Like many idle and stupid questions, this proved worth thinking about, for I realized with thunderous emphasis how little Gayness or straightness mattered in human terms: what did matter, in the moral dimension, jumped out at me like a chord in Beethoven — everybody at the party manifested love, care, kindness and support to an almost superhuman degree. These people all loved Don and they exemplified the compassion that, when it appears, makes humans noble and admirable creatures.

Kindness remains, to me, the most wonderful miracle in this incomprehensible universe.

Nobody knows why Achilles wept, but we all know that he must have wept; just as we know that Lear must have prayed for the poor hungry wretches that night on the moor. A Homer or a Shakespeare creates such scenes without knowing why they must be just as they are; and we weep over them without knowing how we are sure that they are true.

Joyce announced that he did not believe in heroes, and Bloom is no hero: just an ordinary decent man. There are a million like him in any large city: Joyce was merely the first to put him in a novel, with biological functions and timid courage unglamorized and uncensored.

But who are you to say a person should be put away? I think perhaps all of us go a little crazy at times.

we're made so that we love First when we see them painted, things we have passed Perhaps a hundred times nor cared to see; And so they are better, painted – better to us, Which is the same thing. Art was given for that; God uses us to help each other so, Lending our minds out.

O poder do Homem deve exceder o seu alcance. Senão, para que serviria o céu?

Nor yours nor mine, nor slave nor free!

And man, whose heav'n-erected face The smiles of love adorn Man's inhumanity to man Makes countless thousands mourn!

God never does nothing wrong [...]. He's always loving, fair, honest'n pure, like the preachers say. He knows everthing and He's more powerful than anything else or anybody who's ever lived nor never's gonna live. I believe that. I got to. But sometimes, when things happen, it's all so hard to take in. Our brains is just too puny. And the question is"—she's sobbing now—"why didn't He make them bigger?

Para los demás, él no era más que un nombre y un apellido. Pero Nina Citrone lo había reconocido como persona, había visto en él una amabilidad cuya existencia él mismo desconocía.

An older woman wearing breeches and riding boots pushed a stroller out of a driveway and into the street. I stopped to let her cross. She smiled, thanking me. I smiled, saying take your time. A tiny hand reached from the stroller and waved at the sky.

Whereas devotees of globalization stress what unifies humankind, traditional realists stress what divides us.

The American narrative is morally unresolvable because the society that saved humanity in the great conflicts of the twentieth century was also a society built on enormous crimes—slavery and the extinction of the native inhabitants.

My characters are more like men than these real men are, see. They're rough and rude, they got hands and they got bellies. They hate and they lust; break the skin of civilization and you find the ape, roaring and red-handed.

Lets dedicate ourselves to what the ancient greeks wrote so many years ago, to tame the savageness of man and make gentle the life of this world. Let us dedicate ourselves to that

Los animales aceptan y los humanos esperan. Nunca oirás a un conejo decir: espero que el sol salga esta mañana para poder ir al lago a jugar. Si el sol sale o no sale, no estropeara el día al conejo. Es feliz siendo un conejo. El caballero pensó en esto. No recordaba a ninguna persona que fuera feliz simplemente por ser una persona".

There never was any heart truly great and generous, that was not also tender and compassionate.

If one by one we counted people out For the least sin, it wouldn't take us long To get so we had no one left to live with. For to be social is to be forgiving.

And lonely as it is that loneliness Will be more lonely ere it will be less-- A blanker whiteness of benighted snow With no expression, nothing to express. They cannot scare me with their empty spaces Between stars--on stars where no human race is. I have it in me so much nearer home To scare myself with my own desert places.

This country is a very broad pan to be only human-nature deep.