„Death renders all equal.“
Omnia mors aequat.

—  Claudiano, De Raptu Proserpinae Bk. II, line 302 http://penelope.uchicago.edu/Thayer/L/Roman/Texts/Claudian/De_Raptu_Proserpinae/2*.html#302. Variant translation: Death makes all things equal.
 Claudiano Foto
Claudiano
370 - 404

Citas similares

John Birtwhistle Foto
Barbara W. Tuchman Foto
George Villiers, 2nd Duke of Buckingham Foto
Frank Herbert Foto

„I now believe that evolution, or deevolution, never ends short of death, that no society has ever achieved an absolute pinnacle, that all humans are not created equal.“

—  Frank Herbert American writer 1920 - 1986
Context: In the beginning I was just as ready as anyone to fall into step, to seek out the guilty and to punish the sinners, even to become a leader. Nothing, I felt, would give me more gratification than riding the steed of yellow journalism into crusade, doing the book that would right the old wrongs. Reevaluation raised haunting questions. I now believe that evolution, or deevolution, never ends short of death, that no society has ever achieved an absolute pinnacle, that all humans are not created equal. In fact, I believe attempts to create some abstract equalization create a morass of injustices that rebound on the equalizers. Equal justice and equal opportunity are ideals we should seek, but we should recognize that humans administer the ideals and that humans do not have equal ability.

Dana Gioia Foto
Adi Da Samraj Foto
Emily Brontë Foto

„There is not room for Death,
Nor atom that his might could render void:
Thou — Thou art Being and Breath,
And what Thou art may never be destroyed.“

—  Emily Brontë English novelist and poet 1818 - 1848
Context: p>With wide-embracing love Thy Spirit animates eternal years, Pervades and broods above, Changes, sustains, dissolves, creates, and rears.Though earth and moon were gone, And suns and universes ceased to be, And Thou wert left alone, Every existence would exist in Thee. There is not room for Death, Nor atom that his might could render void: Thou — Thou art Being and Breath, And what Thou art may never be destroyed.</p

Stig Dagerman Foto
Patrick Buchanan Foto
Michel Foucault Foto

„The fear before the absolute limit of death becomes interiorised in a continual process of ironisation. Fear was disarmed in advance, made derisory by being tamed and rendered banal, and constantly paraded in the spectacle of life. Suddenly, it was there to be discerned in the mannerisms, failings and vices of normal people. Death as the destruction of all things no longer had meaning when life was revealed to be a fatuous sequence of empty words, the hollow jingle of a jester’s cap and bells. The death’s head showed itself to be a vessel already empty, for madness was the being-already-there of death.“

—  Michel Foucault French philosopher 1926 - 1984
Context: From the knowledge of that fatal necessity that reduces man to dust we pass to a contemptuous contemplation of the nothingness that is life itself. The fear before the absolute limit of death becomes interiorised in a continual process of ironisation. Fear was disarmed in advance, made derisory by being tamed and rendered banal, and constantly paraded in the spectacle of life. Suddenly, it was there to be discerned in the mannerisms, failings and vices of normal people. Death as the destruction of all things no longer had meaning when life was revealed to be a fatuous sequence of empty words, the hollow jingle of a jester’s cap and bells. The death’s head showed itself to be a vessel already empty, for madness was the being-already-there of death. Death’s conquered presence, sketched out in these everyday signs, showed not only that its reign had already begun, but also that its prize was a meagre one. Death unmasked the mask of life, and nothing more: to show the skull beneath the skin it had no need to remove beauty or truth, but merely to remove the plaster or the tawdry clothes. The carnival mask and the cadaver share the same fixed smile. But the laugh of madness is an anticipation of the rictus grin of death, and the fool, that harbinger of the macabre, draws death’s sting. Part One: 1. Stultifera Navis

Walther von der Vogelweide Foto

„For five hundred years after Walther's death – until Goethe – no German lyric poet was his equal.“

—  Walther von der Vogelweide Middle High German lyric poet 1170 - 1230
Frederick Goldin German and Italian Lyrics of the Middle Ages (New York: Anchor, 1973) p. 101.