A Quote by Gilbert K. Chesterton

The decay of society is praised by artists as the decay of a corpse is praised by worms. — © Gilbert K. Chesterton
The decay of society is praised by artists as the decay of a corpse is praised by worms.
Now, a corpse, poor thing, is an untouchable and the process of decay is, of all pieces of bad manners, the vulgarest imaginable. For a corpse is, by definition, a person absolutely devoid of savoir vivre.
I guess even the prettiest things eventually end up stinking. Everything does. We all will die and rot and decay and be reborn as dirt or flowers or worms, or polar bears who will drown because their ice is all melting, or presidents of war-torn countries, or whales swimming around acidifying seas. And then we will rot and decay again. And so it goes.
I am pleased to be praised by a man so praised as you, father. [Words used by Hector.] [Lat., Laetus sum Laudari me abs te, pater, laudato viro.]
The body is subject to the law of growth and decay, what grows must of necessity decay.
If those communities are left to decay, this city will decay.
When Hillary Clinton deserved to be praised, I praised her. When Donald Trump did, as well, I did that, too.
I've had the experience of having a book praised but then it doesn't sell. Or not praised but then it sells.
What people love about life is its miraculous beauty; what they hate about death is the loss and decay around it. Yet losing is not losing, and decay turns into beauty, as beauty turns back into decay. We are breathed in, breathed out. Therefore all you need is to understand the one breath that makes up the world.
Year chases year, decay pursues decay, Still drops some joy from with'ring life away; New forms arise, and diff'rent views engage
The Beautiful chariots of kings wear out, This body too undergoes decay. But the Dhamma of the good does not decay: So the good proclaim along with the good.
All satire is blind to the forces liberated by decay. Which is why total decay has absorbed the forces of satire.
Saul Bellow says, funny enough, what French think of your work is tremendously important. And it is. It's more than what the Italians, the Spanish, and the Germans think. Somehow it's still got that cultural primacy. I feel that too: to get praised in France is better than to get praised anywhere else.
The maxim that men are not to be praised before their death was invented by envy and too lightly adopted by philosophers. I, on the contrary, maintain that they ought to be praised in their lifetime if they merit it; but jealousy and calumny, roused against their virtue or their talent, labour to degrade them if any one ventures to bear testimony to them. It is unjust criticism that they should fear to hazard, not sincere praise.
The woods decay, the woods decay and fall, The vapours weep their burthen to the ground, Man comes and tills the field and lies beneath, And after many summer dies the swan. Me only cruel immortality Consumes: I wither slowly in thine arms, Here at the quiet limit of the world.
You great benefactors, sprinkle our society with thankfulness. For your own gifts, make yourselves praised.
I wanted everything. What could you not want when you are brown and Indian-looking in a society in which the white aesthetic is praised as acceptable?
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