de todos ha de haber en el mundo (literally, “There must be of all [types] in the world”)
Ch. 6 / El ingenioso caballero Don Quijote de la Mancha, Capítulo VI
Don Quixote de la Mancha (1605–1615), Part II (1615), Book IV
“Good, bad, and indifferent - It takes all sorts to make a world.”
Variant: It takes all sorts to make a world.
Source: The Wind in the Willows (1908), Ch. 4
Context: The Wild Wood is pretty well populated by now; with all the usual lot, good, bad, and indifferent — I name no names. It takes all sorts to make a world.
to make a world
de todos ha de haber en el mundo (literally, “There must be of all [types] in the world”)
Source: Don Quixote de la Mancha (1605–1615), Part II (1615), Book IV, Ch. 6 / El ingenioso caballero Don Quijote de la Mancha, Capítulo VI
“It takes all sorts of in and outdoor schooling
To get adapted to my kind of fooling.”
"It Takes All Sorts" (1962)
1960s
“We are all a sort of camelions, that still take a tincture from things near us”
Sec. 67
Some Thoughts Concerning Education (1693)
Context: We are all a sort of camelions, that still take a tincture from things near us; nor is it to be wonder'd at in children, who better understand what they see than what they hear.
“This world is mine for the taking, make me king!”
"Lose Yourself".
2000s, 8 Mile (2002)
“But all sorts of things and weather
Must be taken in together
To make up a year,
And a sphere.”
Fable http://www.emersoncentral.com/poems/fable.htm
1840s, Poems (1847)
“If you want to make the world a better place
Take a look at yourself, and then make a change.”
Source: Song Man in the Mirror
Context: I'm starting with the man in the mirror
I'm asking him to change his ways
And no message could have been any clearer
If you want to make the world a better place
Take a look at yourself, and then make a change
Vol. 2 "On Philosophy and the Intellect" as translated in Essays and Aphorisms (1970), as translated by R. J. Hollingdale
Parerga and Paralipomena (1851), Counsels and Maxims
Context: Talent works for money and fame; the motive which moves genius to productivity is, on the other hand, less easy to determine. It isn’t money, for genius seldom gets any. It isn’t fame: fame is too uncertain and, more closely considered, of too little worth. Nor is it strictly for its own pleasure, for the great exertion involved almost outweighs the pleasure. It is rather an instinct of a unique sort by virtue of which the individual possessed of genius is impelled to express what he has seen and felt in enduring works without being conscious of any further motivation. It takes place, by and large, with the same sort of necessity as a tree brings forth fruit, and demands of the world no more than a soil on which the individual can flourish.
