Belgian playwright and essayist (1862–1949)
Count Maurice Polydore Marie Bernard Maeterlinck (29 August 1862 – 6 May 1949) was a Belgian poet, playwright, and essayist who wrote in French, most famous for his work L'Oiseau Bleu (The Blue Bird), and for other works exploring the meaning of life and death. He was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1911.
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Alternative Names:
Maurice Polydore Marie Bernard Maeterlinck
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We should tell ourselves, once and for all, that it is the first duty of the soul to become as happy, complete, independent, and great as lies in its power. Herein is no egoism, or pride. To become effectually generous and sincerely humble there must be within us a confident, tranquil, and clear comprehension of all that we owe to ourselves.
We were rather inclined to believe that courage, physical and moral fortitude, self-denial, stoicism, the renunciation of every sort of comfort, the faculty of self-sacrifice and the power of facing death belonged only to the more primitive, the less happy, the less intelligent nations, to the nations least capable of reasoning, of appreciating danger and of picturing in their imagination the dreadful abyss that separates this life from the life unknown. We were even almost persuaded that war would one day cease for lack of soldiers, that is to say, of men foolish enough or unhappy enough to risk the only absolute realities — health, physical comfort, an unimpaired body and, above all, life, the greatest of earthly possessions — for the sake of an ideal which, like all ideals, is more or less invisible.
خدا
محال است که نوع انسان بتواند به خدا معتقد نشود و من از گفته ی بعضی از بزرگان کلیسا حیرت می کنم که می گویند مترلینگ به خدا معتقد نیست.
آری همه کس به خدا معتقد است ولی هرکس عقیده ی خاصی نسبت به او دارد که متناسب با طرز فکر اوست و همواره خدایی که می پرستیم شبیه خود ماست که صفات و خصائل مارا توصیف می نماید.
اگر اندیشه ی شما هزار مرتبه بزرگ تر از حالا باشد خدای شما هم هزار مرتبه پاک تر خواهد گردید.
هرگز از اندیشه خود یک خدای منتقم و خونخوار و سفاک بیرون نیاورید تا ناچار باشید از خدای خود بترسید.
And if, to-morrow, leaving their feelings toward us untouched, nature were to give them the intelligence and the weapons wherewith to conquer us, I confess that I should distrust the hasty vengeance of the horse, the obstinate reprisals of the ass and the maddened meekness of the sheep. I should shun the cat as I should shun the tiger; and even the good cow, solemn and somnolent, would inspire me with but a wary confidence. As for the hen, with her round, quick eye, as when discovering a slug or a worm, I am sure that she would devour me without a thought.
Pero la hora magnífica pertenece a las rosas de mayo. Entonces, hasta mas allá de donde alcanza la vista, desde las vertientes de las colinas hasta las hondonadas de las llanuras, entre diques de viñas y de olivares, afluyen de todas partes como un río de pétalos del que emergen las casas y los árboles, un río del color que damos a la juventud, a la salud y a la alegría. Diríase que el aroma a la vez cálido y fresco, pero sobretodo espacioso que entreabre el cielo, emana directamente los manantiales de la beatitud.
Our real life is not the life we live, and we feel that our deepest, nay, our most intimate thoughts are quite apart from ourselves, for we are other than our thoughts and our dreams. And it is only at special moments – it may be by merest accident – that we live our own life. Will the day ever dawn when we shall be what we are? …
It is only too evident that the invisible agitations of the kingdoms within us are arbitrarily set on foot by the thoughts we shelter. Our myriad intuitions are the veiled queens who steer our course through life, though we have no words in which to speak of them. How strangely do we diminish a thing as soon as we try to express it in words!
دنیا برای چه ما و سایر موجودات را به وجود آورده؟... آیا برای این ما را به وجود آورد که خود را تنها می دید و در تنهایی خویشتن را سعادتمند نمی دانست؟... و آیا برای این که او سعادتمند نیست ما و سایر موجودات هم سعادتمند نیستیم؟
ولی فراموش نکنید که وقتی ما در خصوص تصمیمات جهان، آفریننده و یا هر چیز دیگر که به جایش بگذارید، صحبت می کنیم عینا مثل است که یک پشه بخواهد در خصوص تصمیمات ما که انسان هستیم صحبت و تفکر نماید و یا کور مادرزاد بخواهد رنگ های مختلف را توصیف کند
Observamos aquí, una vez más, que todo el genio reside en la especie, la vida o la naturaleza; y que el individuo es más o menos estúpido. Sólo en el hombre hay emulación real entre las dos inteligencias, tendencia cada vez más precisa, cada vez más activa a una especie de equilibrio que es el gran secreto de nuestro porvenir.