A Quote by Diogenes

We have complicated every simple gift of the gods. — © Diogenes
We have complicated every simple gift of the gods.

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When the world is so complicated, the simple gift of friendship is within all of our hands.
The sun is simple. A sword is simple. A storm is simple. Behind everything simple is a huge tail of complicated.
My parents gave me the gift of irreligion, of growing up without bothering to ask people what gods they held dear, assuming that in fact, like my parents, they weren't interested in gods, and that this uninterest was 'normal.' You may argue that the gift was a poisoned chalice, but even if so, that's a cup from which I'd happily drink again.
Making the simple complicated is commonplace; making the complicated simple, awesomely simple, that's creativity.
Every word and every deed, every thought and every gesture, even the simple act of paying attention can be a gift and therefore an echo of God’s life in us.
Every comic can report a few 'gift from the gods' moments.
Each and every being has an innate ability to heal as a gift from the gods.
Life is a gift of the immortal Gods, but living well is the gift of philosophy.
where are the gods the gods hate us the gods have run away the gods have hidden in holes the gods are dead of the plague they rot and stink too there never were any gods there’s only death
Such is modern computing: everything simple is made too complicated because it's easy to fiddle with; everything complicated stays complicated because it's hard to fix.
I admire writers who can make complicated things simple, but my own talent has been to make simple things complicated.
Life isn't complicated. It's very simple, really. It's us who make it complicated.
[…] but I believe that things are extremely complicated, and her looking over me was as complicated as anything could ever be. But it was also incredibly simple.
..things are never as complicated as they seem. It is only our arrogance that prompts us to find unnecessarily complicated answers to simple problems.
I had forgotten this about love: how the simple things- the turn away, the turn towards- could be so complicated, and how the complicated things- the stolen night, the right words- could be so simple.
Every gift contains a danger. Whatever gift we have we are compelled to express. And if the expression of that gift is blocked, distorted, or merely allowed to languish, then the gift turns against us, and we suffer.
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