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In contemporary American public culture, the legacy of the consumer revolution of the 1960s is unmistakable. Today, there are few things more beloved of our masses than the figure of the cultural rebel, the defiant individualist resisting the mandates of the machine civilization. Whether he is an athlete decked out in a mowhawk and multiple-pierced ears, a policeman who plays by his own rules, an actor on a motorcycle, a soldier of fortune with explosive bow and arrow, or a rock star in leather jacket and sunglasses, the rebel has become the paramount cliché of our popular entertainment, and the pre-eminent symbol of the system he is supposed to be subverting. In advertising especially, he rules supreme Thomas Frank		Friday Jul 18, 2025
		Quotes: 53419 Authors: 9969

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Whenever evil befalls us, we ought to ask ourselves, after the first suffering, how we can turn it into good. So shall we take occasion, from one bitter root, to raise perhaps many flowers. James Henry Leigh Hunt

Quote Author: James Henry Leigh Hunt

	James Henry Leigh Hunt
	(1784-1859) English Poet, Critic, and Journalist

Other James Henry Leigh Hunt Quotes

Laughter is one of the very privileges of reason, being confined to the human species.

It is a delicious moment, certainly, that of being well nestled in bed, and feeling that you shall drop gently to sleep. The good is to come, not past...

There are two worlds; the world that we can measure with line and rule, and the world that we feel with our hearts And imaginations.

Tears hinder sorrow from becoming despair.

The same people who can deny others everything Are famous for refusing themselves nothing.

If you are melancholy for the first time, you will find, upon a little inquiry, that others have been melancholy many times, And yet are cheerful now.

Whenever evil befalls us, we ought to ask ourselves, after the first suffering, how we can turn it into good. So shall we take occasion, from one bitter root, to raise perhaps many flowers.

Stolen kisses are always sweetest.

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw, within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, An angel writing in a book of gold: Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the presence in the room he said, 'What writest thou?' The vision raised its head, And with a look made all of sweet accord, Answered, 'The names of those who love the Lord.' 'And is mine one?' said Abou. 'Nay not so.' Replied the angel, Abou spoke more low, But clearly still, and said, 'I pray thee, then, Write me as one that loves his fellow-men.' The angel wrote and vanished. The next night It came again with a great wakening light, And showed the names whom love of God had blessed. And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest!

With spots of sunny openings, and with nooks To lie and read in, sloping into brooks.

Write me as one who loves his fellow-men.

A pleasure so exquisite as almost to amount to pain.

Oh for a seat in some poetic nook, Just hid with trees and sparkling with a brook!

It flows through old hushed Egypt and its sands, Like some grave mighty thought threading a dream, And times and things, as in that vision, seem Keeping along it their eternal stands.

Stolen sweets are always sweeter, Stolen kisses much completer, Stolen looks are nice in chapels, Stolen, stolen be your apples.

To receive a present handsomely and in a right spirit, even when you have none to give in return, is to give one in return.