“Purpose is but the slave to memory,Of violent birth, but poor validity;”
In this quote by William Shakespeare, the speaker is discussing the relationship between purpose and memory. The speaker suggests that purpose is merely a tool or servant of memory, born out of intense emotions but lacking in true significance. This perspective challenges the idea that purpose is a driving force in our lives, instead implying that it is controlled by our recollections and experiences. Shakespeare's use of imagery and language in this quote conveys a sense of limitation and fragility surrounding the concept of purpose.
In this quote by William Shakespeare, the idea that our purpose is defined by our memories is brought to light. In today's fast-paced world, where distractions are rampant and the past is easily forgotten, it is crucial to remember the lessons of our past in order to shape our future. Our memories guide our purpose, giving it depth and significance. Without a strong connection to our past, our purpose may lack authenticity and meaning. Shakespeare's words remind us of the importance of honoring our memories in order to truly understand our purpose in modern society.
"“Purpose is but the slave to memory,Of violent birth, but poor validity;” - William Shakespeare"
In this quote by Shakespeare, the idea that purpose is subordinate to memory is brought forth. Reflecting on this notion can lead to introspective thoughts about the role that memory plays in shaping our sense of purpose. Consider the following questions:
“I do believe you think what now you speak, but what we do determine oft we break. Purpose is but the slave to memory, of violent birth, but poor validity, which now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the tree, but fall, unshaken, when they mellow be. Most unnecessary 'tis that we forget to pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt. What to ourselves in passion we propose, the passion ending, doth the purpose lose. The violence of either grief or joy their own enactures with themselves destroy. Where joy most revels, grief doth most lament. Grief joys, joy grieves on slender accident. This world is not for aye, nor 'tis not strange that even our loves should with our fortunes change. For 'tis a question left us yet to prove, whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love. The great man down, you mark his favorite flies. The poor advanced makes friends of enemies. And hitherto doth love on fortune tend, for who not needs shall never lack a friend, and who in want a hollow friend doth try, directly seasons him his enemy. But, orderly to end where I begun, our wills and fates do so contrary run that our devices still are overthrown. Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own. So think thou wilt no second husband wed, but die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead.”
“Remember thee? Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seatin this distracted globe. Remember thee?”
“Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,Is the immediate jewel of their souls:Who steals my purse steals trash; ’tis something, nothing;’twas mine, ’tis his, and has been slave to thousands;But he that filches from me my good nameRobs me of that which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed.”
“The expedition of my violent love outrun the pauser, reason.”
“Thou most lying slave,Whom stripes may move, not kindness!”
“Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himselfUpon thy wicked dam”