A Quote by Ted Hughes

The sea cries with its meaningless voice,
Treating alike its dead and its living — © Ted Hughes
The sea cries with its meaningless voice, Treating alike its dead and its living
Death is meaningless to the living because they are living, and meaningless to the dead… because they are dead.
The Sea of Galilee and the Dead Sea are made of the same water. It flows down, clean and cool, from the heights of Herman and the roots of the cedars of Lebanon. the Sea of Galilee makes beauty of it, the Sea of Galilee has an outlet. It gets to give. It gathers in its riches that it may pour them out again to fertilize the Jordan plain. But the Dead Sea with the same water makes horror. For the Dead Sea has no outlet. It gets to keep.
We honor the dead best by treating the living well.
I see a sea of networkers all doing and saying the same things. They look alike, act alike and sound alike when speaking to prospects. If you want to rise above the average, mediocre networker... then you have to think differently.
The voice of the dead was a living voice to me.
We have to start treating each other as if we are treating ourselves living another life.
Life is meaningless, but worth living, provided you recognize it's meaningless.
Ceremonies are important. But our gratitude has to be more than visits to the troops, and once-a-year Memorial Day ceremonies. We honor the dead best by treating the living well.
But reading is not idleness?it is the passive, receptive side of civilization without which the active and creative world would be meaningless. It is the immortal spirit of the dead realised within the bodies of the living. It is sacramental.
One voice is tiny, and alone it cannot be heard above the din of politics as usual. The peoples voice, when it cries as one, is a great roar.
Countless as the sands of sea are human passions, and not all of them are alike, and all of them, base and noble alike, are at first obedient to man and only later on become his terrible masters.
If we keep treating our most important values as meaningless relics, that's exactly what they'll become.
Hell was not for the living, it was for the dead, even the hallowed dead. Let the dead rest in peace. Someday Mack Bolan, too, would rest. For now, he had to find his way among the living.
Fairness is giving all people the treatment they earn and deserve. It doesn't mean treating everyone alike.
Everything in our background has prepared us to know and resist a prison when the gates begin to close around us . . . But what if there are no cries of anguish to be heard? Who is prepared to take arms against a sea of amusements? To whom do we complain, and when, and in what tone of voice, when serious discourse dissolves into giggles? What is the antidote to a culture's being drained by laughter?
When someone kisses someone or flushes the toilet it is my other who sits in a ball and cries. My other beats a tin drum in my heart. My other hangs up laundry as I try to sleep. My other cries and cries and cries when I put on a cocktail dress.
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