We can hardly imagine what fools we look to posterity, and in what present and prepossessing absurdities we engage, until we catch a glimpse of ourselves in the mirror of history.
When a man speaks darkly of history's judgement upon the notions of his own time, it is meet to wonder whether his prognostications admit the seed of their own abrogation, or whether he pretends to prophetic powers.
You dont have to wait for history to have its say; just wait 20 years and take a look at your picture in the high school yearbook. There's nothing like that to make you wonder what the hell was I thinking then?
'Akaky', you touch a sensitive point. In my early 40s I made the mistake of revisiting my old school for the first time since I left it. I do not think I have ever had such an unsettling experience. For days afterwards I kept thinking of that little boy with his green cap, long shorts and satchel, filled with fear and hopes, and I kept wondering whatever happened to him.
Never go back and, begging 'Dearieme's' pardon, never look back, either!
9 comments:
Words of Wisdom, Mr. D.
Amen to that.
The mirror of history should let us see the hand of history approaching our shoulder, or the boot of history our bum.
Wonderful thoughts here. Found you from James at nourishing obscurity.
Have a lovely weekend.
tea
xo
More profound by the day, Dearieme.
When a man speaks darkly of history's judgement upon the notions of his own time, it is meet to wonder whether his prognostications admit the seed of their own abrogation, or whether he pretends to prophetic powers.
In other words, destroy the tapes.
You dont have to wait for history to have its say; just wait 20 years and take a look at your picture in the high school yearbook. There's nothing like that to make you wonder what the hell was I thinking then?
'Akaky', you touch a sensitive point. In my early 40s I made the mistake of revisiting my old school for the first time since I left it. I do not think I have ever had such an unsettling experience. For days afterwards I kept thinking of that little boy with his green cap, long shorts and satchel, filled with fear and hopes, and I kept wondering whatever happened to him.
Never go back and, begging 'Dearieme's' pardon, never look back, either!
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