Quotes About Humanity

Sometimes, I look outside, and I think that a lot of other people have seen this snow before. Just like I think that a lot of other people have read those books before. And listened to those songs. I wonder how they feel tonight.

It's strange the times people choose to be generous.

It's strange the times people choose to be generous.

No el mundo arrastra una tragedia, Charlie, y aunque así fuera no los excusaría

First, I am very interested and fascinated by how everyone loves each other, but no one really likes each other.

I guess when you see someone in the hallway or on the field or something, it's nice to know that they are a real person.

So my heart goes out to them. Figuratively. I would never actually entrust my heart to scientists—they'd probably implant it in a baboon. And a baboon with my heart would be practically unstoppable. Baboon strength and agility combined with my determination and media savvy? It would be a threat to all of humanity.

Librarians hoard the wisdom of humanity. They are the keepers of all knowledge, the guardians at the temples of understanding and devoted protectors of the sanctuary in the midst of uneducated anarchy.

Through his suffering, he peers into the core of things and sees that the judgment of man is thistle-down in the wind.

I like the people. But, considered generally, they are a collection of ingenious blockheads.

The conceit of man was explained by this storm to be the very engine of life. One

He had performed his mistakes in the dark, so he was still a man.

Ethnic Germans also surrendered. Even veterans of the Eastern Front. Corp. Friedrich Bertenrath of the 2nd Panzer Division explained, In Russia, I could imagine nothing but fighting to the last man. We knew that going into a prison camp in Russia meant you were dead. In Normandy, one always had in the back of his mind, 'Well, if everything goes to hell, the Americans are human enough that the prospect of becoming their prisoner was attractive to some extent.

It is perhaps the consummate irony," Arthur Moore writes, "that at each step up from savagery the human race has regarded the fruits of progress with a degree of misgiving and often longed against reason for a return to a simpler condition.

In the Second World War, if you were going to be conquered and occupied by a foreign army, the last thing you wanted was for it to be the German, Japanese, or Red army. The first thing, around the world, was to hope it would be the American Army. This was because you would be better fed, receive better medical care, treated like a human being.

On the beach, men saw Father Lacy "go down to the water's edge and pull the dead, dying, and wounded from the water and put them in relatively protected positions. He didn't stop at that, but prayed for them and with them, gave comfort to the wounded and dying. A real man of God."22

The girl looked like walking death," Nancy recalled. "To leave somebody that sick in a bus terminal? I just didn't get it.

But you can't argue that the world isn't in an unhealthy moral state. Wouldn't think of it dearest. People lie, cheat, rape, swindle, kill, maim, torture and destroy. Bad thing. People also pop into bed together and cosy up. Good thing. If we think fucking is a sign of moral decay then we're a little bit stupid-stupid, aren't we?

You want poetry, first you have to muck in with humanity, you have to fight with paper and pencil for weeks and weeks until your heart bleeds: verses aren't channelled into your head by angels or muses or sprites of nature.

There can't be that many individual souls. Not souls like mine. There isn't room. There can't be.

I believe that poetry is a primal impulse within us all.

Our language, tiger, our language: hundreds of thousands of available words, frillions of legitimate new ideas... And yet, oh, and yet, we, all of us, spend all our days saying to each other the same things time after weary time: I love you, Don't go in there, Get out, You have no right to say that, Stop it, Why should I, That hurt, Help, Marjorie is dead.

Could they remember the first time they felt the sweeping rush of love? Love came to peasants, kings, and even gods. Love made all equal. Love deified, yet love leveled.

Life, that can shower you with so much splendour, is unremittingly cruel to those who have given up. Thank the gods there is such a thing as redemption, the redemption that comes in the form of other people the moment you are prepared to believe that they exist.