A Quote by Jane Austen

Such squeamish youths as cannot bear to be connected with a little absurdity are not worth a regret. — © Jane Austen
Such squeamish youths as cannot bear to be connected with a little absurdity are not worth a regret.
There is no absurdity in theology so great that you cannot parallel it by a greater absurdity in Nature.
Public opinion, I am sorry to say, will bear a great deal of nonsense. There is scarcely any absurdity so gross, whether in religion, politics, science or manners, which it will not bear.
I used to be squeamish a long time ago and I guess, secretly squeamish, no... but I have a huge respect for the human body and what we do and so I think it's a massive privilage for people to let you operate on them. And I used to be very "OOOH GOSH! THIS IS BAD!" but to see people bleeding and suffering is bad and I will never get over that, but being able to do something about it, means that you're no longer squeamish.
I am not sure one is capable of reflecting absurdity without having a strong sense of meaning. Absurdity makes sense only against a meaningful background. It is the deeper meaning that is shedding light on the absurdity. There must be a vanish point, a metaphysical horizon if you will where absurdity and meaning merge.
I think it's a very central tenet to it yes, it is. I can't bear it, I can't bear inequality, I can't bear bad behaviour to other people. I cannot bear it that people are mean to people who can't help what they are.
The male cannot bear very much humiliation; and he really cannot bear it, it obliterates him.
You have to remind kids to stay connected to the meaning of Christmas. Sometimes it takes a little bit of effort, but it's so worth it.
Squeamish stomachs cannot eat without pickles.
Boldness in the course of a noble fight is worth the risk... If you stand on truth, you'll only regret your timidity later, but you'll never regret being bold.
I would sit in my room and become hysterical about the wild incredible story I was writing. And I thought I was writing realism. It never occurred to me that I was writing absurdity. Realism and absurdity are so similar in the lives of American blacks one cannot tell the difference.
Yet it would be your duty to bear it, if you could not avoid it: it is weak and silly to say you cannot bear what it is your fate to be required to bear.
I regret that I was never an athlete. I regret there isn't time in life. I regret that so many of my friends have died. I regret that I was not brave at certain times in my life. I regret that I'm not beautiful. I regret that my conversation is largely with myself. I'm not part of the conversation of the world.
I have been mortal, and some part of me is mortal yet. I am full of tears and hunger and the fear of death, although I cannot weep, and I want nothing, and I cannot die. I am not like the others now, for no unicorn was ever born who could regret, but I do. I regret.
Basically, at the very bottom of life, which seduces us all, there is only absurdity, and more absurdity. And maybe that's what gives us our joy for living, because the only thing that can defeat absurdity is lucidity.
We cannot bear for our most mysterious experiences to remain unexplained. I've therefore learned...that every story has worth, since a person takes the time to tell it. The key is to listen.
We are all living in a techno-dystopian fantasy, the Internet-connected portals we rely on rendering the world in all its granular detail and absurdity like Borges's 'Aleph.'
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