Discard Quotes - page 3
Between things sacred and profane there is this difference among others. In profane matters the instrument derives its worth from the end, and is valued for the most part only in so far as it is a means to that end; and consequently we change the instruments as the end demands, and finally, when the end is no longer pursued, the instruments automatically fall into disuse. But in sacred matters the end invests the instrument with a sanctity of its own. Consequently, there is no changing or varying of the instrument; and when the end has ceased to be pursued, the instrument does not fall out of use, but is directed towards another end. In other words: in the one case we preserve the shell for the sake of the kernel, and discard the shell when we have eaten the kernel; in the other case we raise the shell to the dignity of the kernel, and do not rob it of that dignity even if the kernel withers, but make a new kernel for it.
Ahad Ha'am
The whole of human history is nothing new, the whole of your personal story is nothing true, you can do with it whatever you want to do-flick a switch, scratch the record off, look behind the veil. Anything you don't want, discard; anything that hurts, let go. None of it's real, you know-all that pain, all that regret, all that doubt, not thin enough, not a good enough mum, not a good enough son, not a good enough bum. You are enough; you're enough; there's nothing you can buy or try on that's going to make you any better, because you couldn't be any better than you are. Drag your past around if you like, an old dead decaying ox of what you think they might've thought or what might've been if you'd done what you ought. That which needs to burn, let it burn. If the idea doesn't serve you, let it go. If it separates you from the moment, from others, from yourself, let it go.
Russell Brand
Translated: We are no one's, always at a boundary, always someone's dowry. Is it a wonder then that we are poor? For centuries now we have been seeking our true selves, yet soon we will not know who we are, we will forget that we ever wanted anything; others do us the honour of calling us under their banner for we have none, they lure us when we are needed and discard us when we have outserved the purpose they gave us. We remain the saddest little district of the world, the most miserable people of the world, losing our own persona and nor being able to take on anyone else's, torn away and not accepted, alien to all and everyone, including those with whom we are most closely related, but who will not recognise us as their kin. We live on a divide between worlds, at the border between nations, always at a fault to someone and first to be struck. Waves of history strike us as a sea cliff. Crude force has worn us out and we made a virtue out of a necessity: we grew smart out of spite.
Meša Selimović