Quotes About Humanity

O ja, ich will nicht umsonst gelebt haben wie die meisten Menschen. Ich will den Menschen, die um mich herum leben und mich doch nicht kennen, Freude und Nutzen bringen. Ich will fortleben, auch nach meinem Tod.

Ich sehe, wie die Welt allmählich in eine Wildnis verwandelt wird. Ich höre den nahenden Donner, der auch uns vernichten wird, ich kann das Leiden von Millionen spüren und dennoch glaube ich, wenn ich zum Himmel blicke, dass alles in Ordnung gehen und auch diese Grausamkeit ein Ende finden wird und dass Ruhe und Frieden wieder einkehren werden.

No nos queda más remedio que esperar con la mayor tranquilidad posible el final de toda esta desgracia. Tanto los judíos como los cristianos están esperando, todo el planeta está esperando, y muchos están esperando la muerte.

I want to be useful or bring enjoyment to all people, even those I've never met.

It's really a wonder that I haven't dropped all my ideals, because they seem so absurd and impossible to carry out. Yet I keep them, because in spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart.

In spite of everything I still believe that people r really good at heart. I simply can't build up my hopes on a foundation consisting of confusion, death & misery. I c the world gradually being turned into a wilderness, I hear the ever approaching thunder, which will destroy us too, I can feel the sufferings of millions & yet, if I look up into the heavens, I think that it will all come right, that this cruelty too will end, & that peace & tranquility will return again.

You're only human. You don't have to have it together every minute of every day.

you're only human. you dont have to have it together every minute of everyday

So how on earth can I bring a child into the world, knowing that such sorrow lies ahead, that it is such a large part of what it means to be human? I'm not sure. That's my answer: I'm not sure.

I think we're all pretty crazy on this bus. I'm not sure I know anyone who's got all the dots on his or her dice.

He told me about his monster. His sounded just like mine without quite so much mascara. When people shine a little light on their monster, we find out how similar most of our monsters are.

Human lives are hard, even those of health and privilege, and don't make much sense. This is the message of the Book of Job: Any snappy explanation of suffering you come up with will be horseshit.

I guess he'll have to figure out someday that he is supposed to have this dark side, that it is part of what it means to be human, to have the darkness just as much as the light- that in fact the dark parts make the light visible; without them, the light would disappear. But I guess he has to figure other stuff out first, like how to keep his neck from flopping all over the place and how to sit up.

When people shine a little light on their monster, we find out how similar most of our monsters are.

A hundred years from now? All new people.

We are a species that needs and wants to understand who we are. Sheep lice do not seem to share this longing, which is one reason why they write so little.

Intelligence, goodness, humanity, excitement, serenity. Over time, these are the things that change the musculature of your face, as do laughter, and animation, and especially whatever peace you can broker with the person inside. It's furrow, pinch, and judgement that make us look older - our mothers were right. They said that if you made certain faces, they would stick, and they do. But our mothers forgot that faces of kindness and integrity stick as well.

We are a species that needs and wants to understand who we are. Sheep lice do not seem to share this longing, which is one reason why they write so little. But we do. We have so much we want to say and figure out.

Maybe what we say to each other is not so important after all, but just that we are alive together, and present for each other as best we can be.

I recognize the divinity in you, but actually more like, I recognize our each-otherness, instantly

Almost everyone is screwed up, broken, clingy, scared, and yet designed for joy. Even (or especially) people who seem to have it more or less together are more like the rest of us than you would believe. I try not to compare my insides to their outsides, because this makes me much worse than I already am

This is who I want to be in the world. This is who I think we are supposed to be, people who help call forth human beings from deep inside hopelessness.

Say it's true: It is what it is. We're social, tribal, musical animals, walking percussion instruments. Most of us do the best we can. We show up. We strive for gratitude, and try not to be such babies.

writing is about telling the truth. We are a species that needs and wants to understand who we are. Sheep lice do not seem to share this longing, which is one reason they write so very little.