
“Good fortune is a god among men, and more than a god.”
Variant translation: Success is man's god.
Source: Oresteia (458 BC), The Libation Bearers, line 59
Source: The Spirits' Book, p. 174.
“Good fortune is a god among men, and more than a god.”
Variant translation: Success is man's god.
Source: Oresteia (458 BC), The Libation Bearers, line 59
No.10. Old Mortality — JENNY DENNISON.
Literary Remains
Foreword http://www.bartleby.com/55/100.html
1910s, Theodore Roosevelt — An Autobiography (1913)
Context: It seems to me that, for the nation as for the individual, what is most important is to insist on the vital need of combining certain sets of qualities, which separately are common enough, and, alas, useless enough. Practical efficiency is common, and lofty idealism not uncommon; it is the combination which is necessary, and the combination is rare. Love of peace is common among weak, short-sighted, timid, and lazy persons; and on the other hand courage is found among many men of evil temper and bad character. Neither quality shall by itself avail. Justice among the nations of mankind, and the uplifting of humanity, can be brought about only by those strong and daring men who with wisdom love peace, but who love righteousness more than peace.
Source: Sexual Personae: Art and Decadence from Nefertiti to Emily Dickinson (1990), p. 508
Zwingli Opera, Corpus Reformatorum, Volume 1, p. 427-428.
As quoted in "The Notation of the Heart" by Edmund Fuller, in The American Scholar Reader (1960) edited by Hiram Hayden and Betsy Saunders
“It is good to have among us such men, such balancing monsters of love.”
Beautiful Losers (1966)
Context: What is a saint? A saint is someone who has achieved a remote human possibility. It is impossible to say what that possibility is. I think it has something to do with the energy of love. Contact with this energy results in the exercise of a kind of balance in the chaos of existence. A saint does not dissolve the chaos; if he did the world would have changed long ago. I do not think that a saint dissolves the chaos even for himself, for there is something arrogant and warlike in the notion of a man setting the universe in order. It is a kind of balance that is his glory. He rides the drifts like an escaped ski. His course is the caress of the hill. His track is a drawing of the snow in a moment of its particular arrangement with wind and rock. Something in him so loves the world that he gives himself to the laws of gravity and chance. Far from flying with the angels, he traces with the fidelity of a seismograph needle the state of the solid bloody landscape. His house is dangerous and finite, but he is at home in the world. He can love the shape of human beings, the fine and twisted shapes of the heart. It is good to have among us such men, such balancing monsters of love.
“A single day among the learned lasts longer than the longest life of the ignorant.”
As quoted in Epistulae morales ad Lucilium by Seneca, Epistle LXXVIII (trans. R. M. Gummere)