Favorites from Poor Richard's Almanack

I love quotations of every kind. Currently I'm reading a lot of American Literature because it happens to be what I'm teaching.  Here are some of the more interesting proverbs from sifting through Benjamin Franklin's Poor Richard's Almanack.

"Love your enemies, for they tell you your faults."

"Many have quarreled about religion that have never practiced it."

"Mary's mouth costs her nothing, for she never opens it but at other's expense."

"Men and melons are hard to know."

"Want of care does us more damage than want of knowledge."  Benjamin Franklin

"Wealth is not his that has it but his who enjoys it."

"Well done is better than well said."

"What you would seem to be, be really."

"When you are good to others, you are best to yourself."

"Wink at small faults; remember thou has great ones."

"Wish not so much to live long as to live well."

"Who hast deceived thee so oft as thyself?"

"Write with the learned, pronounce with the vulgar."

Portrait by Michael J. Deas

"Write injuries in dust, benefits in marble."

"You may delay but time will not."

"Tis hard (but glorious) to be poor and honest.

"To be intimate with a foolish friend is like going to be with a razor."

"The things which hurt, instruct."

"The sting of a reproach is the truth of it."

"The way to see by faith, is to shut the eye of Reason.  The morning daylight appears plainer when you put out your candle."

"The too obliging temper is evermore disobliging itself."

"Love well, whip well."   Hmmmm...definitely not politically correct, ha!

"The worst wheel of the cart makes the most noise."

"The noblest question in the world is what good may I do in it?"

"Take this remark from Richard, poor and lame, whatever is begun in anger ends in shame."

Pro 14:13  Even in laughter the heart may ache, and the end of joy may be grief.

Matthew Henry interprets this quote as "the vanity of carnal mirth"--that a person may laugh in his sin, but the end of his actions will bring grief.  My understanding of this proverb is more fluid--I think the proverb in the sense that life encompasses a spectrum of emotions, and that the extremes of this spectrum-great joy and great grief--bleed into each other. Heaviness intermingles with joy at times.   Joy can be threaded through with heaviness.

One of the saddest moments of my life was a 50th birthday party for my brother-in-law who was terminally ill with kidney cancer.  Yes, it was a celebration of Mark's life, a happy birthday, a reunion of many friends and relatives from various places and various years.  In fact, if he were not sick, it might have been the happiest of parties: we were all authentically happy to be there, ready to embrace the evening.  And Mark was a man who loved festivity--the best of  hosts, affable, an easy-going guy who made you feel easy too.  All the right pieces were in place--a great venue, restored old building with character, lots of excellent Buffalo, New York food and drink, friendly people, good times.

Yet, despite all this, the unspeakable heaviness came too.  Even the most-lighthearted of parties are funny in that way to begin with---our expectations and anticipation often exceed the reality.  It's harder to laugh when we know we should. When we know we are supposed to have a good time, it can be harder to get there. Some of the most joyful moments in my life have thus been unanticipated, accidental, like a rainbow suddenly appearing on the horizon--look, there it is...isn't it unexpectedly beautiful?

As the evening waned and people trickled away to their homes and regular lives, I felt the irony of the setting more and more. Mark was trying hard to savor the moments and be a good sport.  But he was walking with a cane.  In the back of my mind, I was wondering if he was tired--wasn't this late for him?  Yet what did he have to lose?  What did he have when he went home and all was over?
Does everyone feel this heaviness? Some more than others?

I remember the crowd thinning and my husband sitting on a bar stool talking with Mark--love that about Briggs--he's a great listener, loyal companion, in for the whole of whatever.  He's present.  If I could have made the evening last--to last into the late evening as it normally would--to have that same sense of ease and looseness that the old evenings did.  If I could...

I hated that end of that party, as I hate most endings.  They force us to draw a line, pack our things away, and turn out the lights...

There is an irreconcilable tension between the beautiful and meaningful things of this life and the pain that comes with the inevitable loss of them, with taking them for granted, with the relentless wear of time across our lives.

We rejoice.  We grieve.  They are sometimes so close they are one.