(no subject)
Today brought afresh to my mind a poem by Thomas Gray. I may have posted it here previously, but I shall post it again. In part, because I am too lazy to go look and see if I have; in part because the sentiment is one of which I occasionally need reminding. Without further ado:
To each his suff'rings: all are men,
Condemn'd alike to groan,
The tender for another's pain;
Th' unfeeling for his own.
Yet ah! why should they know their fate?
Since sorrow never comes too late,
And happiness too swiftly flies.
Thought would destroy their paradise.
No more; where ignorance is bliss,
'Tis folly to be wise.
No matter how joyful a period we may experience in our lives, it shall not last. The question is not whether we will experience pain, but rather when, and on what terms. The fact that I have not yet formulated a personal answer to that frustrates me.
To each his suff'rings: all are men,
Condemn'd alike to groan,
The tender for another's pain;
Th' unfeeling for his own.
Yet ah! why should they know their fate?
Since sorrow never comes too late,
And happiness too swiftly flies.
Thought would destroy their paradise.
No more; where ignorance is bliss,
'Tis folly to be wise.
No matter how joyful a period we may experience in our lives, it shall not last. The question is not whether we will experience pain, but rather when, and on what terms. The fact that I have not yet formulated a personal answer to that frustrates me.