Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Whatness. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Whatness Quotes And Sayings by 92 Authors including J.m. Coetzee,Charles Neaves, Lord Neaves,Sir John Davies,Jules Renard,Zhuangzi for you to enjoy and share.
It is a world of words that creates a world of things.
To have a thing is little, if you're not allowed to show it, to know a thing, is nothing unless others know you know it.
Wit,
the pupil of the soul's clear eye.
Words are the small change of thought.
Great knowledge is universal. Small knowledge is limited. Great words are inspiring; small words are chatter.
One feels 'the dearth of human words, the roughness of mortal speech' in trying to describe things intangible.
In The End The Words Are The All And The Nothing.
There is "what is" only when there is no comparing and to live with "what is" is to be peaceful.
Wit: a whim followed by a wham.
What do you know about this business?' the King said to Alice. 'Nothing,' said Alice. 'Nothing WHATEVER?' persisted the King. 'Nothing whatever,' said Alice.
The world is made up of words.
Worthy would-be worlds of words, whorls of working wonder.
Greatness after all, in spite of its name, appears to be not so much a certain size as a certain quality in human lives. It may be present in lives whose range is very small.
Greatness, thou gaudy torment of out souls,
The wise man's fetter, and the rage of fools.
What decadence this belonging rubbish was, what time the rich must have if they could sit around and weave great worries out of such threadbare things.
I reck'n I knows sense when I sees it; en dey ain' no sense in sich doin's as dat.
Man cannot endure his own littleness unless he can translate it into meaningfulness on the largest possible level.
This thou must always bear in mind, what is the nature of the whole ...
That which we are capable of feeling, we are capable of saying.
Every word has its fragrance: there is a harmony and a disharmony of fragrances, and hence of words.
Whatever amuses, serves to kill time, to lull the faculties, and to banish reflection. Whatever entertains, usually awakens the understanding or gratifies the fancy. Whatever diverts, is lively in its nature, and sometimes tumultuous in its effects.
How pathetically scanty my self-knowledge is compared with, say, my knowledge of my room. There is no such thing as observation of the inner world, as there is of the outer world.
Words have their genealogy, their history, their economy, their literature, their art and music, as too they have their weddings and divorces, their successes and defeats, their fevers, their undiagnosable ailments, their sudden deaths. They also have their moral and social distinctions.
Wherein cunning, but in craft? Wherein crafty, but in villainy? Wherein villainous, but in all things? Wherein worthy, but in nothing?
Usefulness! It is not a fascinating word, and the quality is not one of which the aspiring spirit can dream o' nights, yet on the stage it is the first thing to aim at.
a thing's not a thing until you say it out loud
What is it ye have there, Murtagh?
Sense is our helmet, wit is but the plume; The plume exposes, 'tis our helmet saves. Sense is the diamond, weighty, solid, sound; When cut by wit, it casts a brighter beam; Yet, wit apart, it is a diamond still.
Words are like Leaves; and where they most abound,
Much Fruit of Sense beneath is rarely found.
It is but the littleness of man that seeth no greatness in trifles.
Many things there are to know which profiteth little or nothing to the soul.
The greatest sense is indistinguishable from the greatest nonsense.
If smallness was fortune, then I had come across a treasure, infinitesimal and beyond value. I felt lucky. You had to decide what was estimable and precious in your life and set out to find it. The objects you valued defined you.
We are nearer neighbors to ourselves than the whiteness of snow or the weight of stones are to us: if man does not know himself, how should he know his functions and powers?
The absolute things, the last things, the overlapping things, are the truly philosophic concerns; all superior minds feel seriously about them, and the mind with the shortest views is simply the mind of the more shallow man.
How much can come And much can go, And yet abide the world!
Work, the what's-its-name of the thingummy and the thing-um-a-bob of the what d'you-call-it.
Absence, hear thou my protestation
Against that strength,
Distance and length.
Pride, where wit fails, steps in to our defence, and fills up all the mighty void of sense.
The world is built with words.
A thing is what it is....and not something else.
The nonsense that charms is close to sense.
If we are what we have, and we have nothinh, thenwho are we? Are we nothing?
There is a quickness of perception in some, a nicety in the discernment of character, a natural penetration, in short, which no experience in others can equal ...
I have drawn from the well of language many a thought which I do not have and which I could not put into words.
All that matters is that the thing be the thing of the thing.
Of a little thing a little displeaseth.
Whatever is spoken of acquires a certain existence.
Sometimes we can focus so much on nothing that we make it a big something of nothing
Manner is all in all, whate'er is writ,The substitute for genius, sense, and wit.
A seeming ignorance is very often a most necessary part of worldly knowledge. It is, for instance, commonly advisable to seem ignorant of what people offer to tell you; and, when they say, Have you not heard of such a thing? to answer, No, and to let them go on, though you know it already.
Things, the word she used when whatever it stood for was too distasteful or filthy or horrible to pass her lips. A successful life for her was one that avoided things, excluded things. Such things do not happen to nice women.
When man determined to destroy himself he picked the was of shall and finding only why smashed it into because.
Is no great with Thee, there is no small, For Thou art all, and fillest all in all.
The greatness of every human being.
Wit beyond measure is mans greatest treasure
What it is, it is.
There is no man so great as not to have some littleness more predominant than all his greatness. Our virtues are the dupes, and often only the plaything of our follies.
The best thing next to wit is a consciousness that it is not in us; without wit, a man might then know how to behave himself, so as not to appear to be a fool or a coxcomb.
Wit is the lightning of the mind, reason the sunshine, and reflection the moonlight ...
Worldliness is actually a spirit, an atmosphere, an influence permeating the whole of life and human society, and it needs to be guarded against constantly and strenuously.
Knowledge was the great thing
not abstract knowledge in which Dr. Forester had been so rich, the theories which lead one enticingly on with their appearance of nobility, of transcendent virtue, but detailed, passionate, trivial human knowledge.
Goodness is beauty in its best mistake
Wit consists in knowing the resemblance of things that differ, and the difference of things that are alike.
Good sense, disciplined by experience and inspired by goodness, issues in practical wisdom.
A thing, until it is everything, is noise, and once it is everything it is silence.
A million thoughts went through my mind. What little mind I have.
What counts is to be true, and then everything fits in, humanity and simplicity.
It is good sense applied with diligence to what was at first a mere accident, and which by great application grew to be called, by the generality of mankind, a particular genius.
How weightless/ words are when nothing will do.
For it oft happens that a notion, when it is cloathed with words, seems tedious and operose and hard to be conceived, which yet being striped of that garniture, the ideas shrink into a narrow compass, and are viewed almost by one glance of thought.
Your absence of mind we have borne, till your presence of body came to be called in question by it.
There are some feelings, and actions, for which words are utterly useless.
Words, words. They mean nothing, less than nothing. I know.
A sense is what has the power of receiving into itself the sensible forms of things without the matter, in the way in which a piece of wax takes on the impress of a signet-ring without the iron or gold.
What does it all mean?' I said.
'A good question,' he rejoined: 'nobody knows what anything is; a man can learn only what a thing means. Whether he do, depends on the use he is making of it.
All things human begin with words.
You want to know a little about a lot was
Thou seest how few be the things, the which if a man has at his command his life flows gently on and is divine.
And when a beest is deed, he hath no peyne; But man after his deeth moot wepe and pleyne.
We nothing know, but what is marvellous; Yet what is marvellous, we can't believe.
Who needs sense when you have alliteration?
With how many things are we on the brink of becoming acquainted, if cowardice or carelessness did not restrain our inquiries.
Words, how little they mean when they are too late.
Certain words now in our knowledge we will not use again, and we will never forget them. We need them. Like the back of the picture.
What is there more of in the world than anything else? Ends.
This world of sense, built by the imagination
how fair and foul it is! Like a fairy island in the sea of life, it smiles in sunlight and sleeps in green, known of the world not by communion of knowledge, but by personal, secret discovery!
Words have a taste, sweet but subtle, like dark chocolate; the scent of old bookshops; a flamenco rhythm; the feeling of the rain on your face on sunny days. Words are cruel and spiteful sometimes, wise and loving at others.
[W]hen the mind is really absent, in that silence, in that unlimited space, your potential starts glowing, radiating, flowering. Suddenly you are full of cherry blossoms, a new presence, a new fragrance.
We put words between ourselves and things.
Some is, I think, the personal in any act of writing. You find yourself caught up: you start a sentence, and it becomes revelatory, not just of the character, but of you as well.
What was and what may be lie, like children whose faces we cannot see, in the arms of silence. All we have is here, now.
Get a look at greatness!
It's a thingy! A fiendish thingy!
word is like a sword; you should be wise when to use it or it'll kill and ruin everything you did in your past, you're doing at this time, and you're gonna do in the future
No stile of writing is so delightful as that which is all pith, which never omits a necessary word, nor uses an unnecessary one.
Though it may be called a nescience, and unknowing, yet there is in it more than all knowing and understanding without it; for this unknowing lures and attracts you from all understood things, and from yourself as well.
You know,
That the only difference,
Between, you n' I,
Is the flavour, of choice,
And the dimension, of thoughts,
Through the desire, of our eyes,
Words are empty until you fill them, and how you fill them shapes the world.
Too many times we are concerned with how much, instead of how little, like this [world] we can become.