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When the morning's freshness has been replaced by the weariness of midday, when the leg muscles give under the strain, the climb seems endless, and suddenly nothing will go quite as you wish it is then that you must not hesitate.

Dag Hammarskjold

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Dag Hammarskjold
Age: 55 †
Born: 1905
Born: January 1
Died: 1961
Died: January 1
Diplomat
Economist
Poet
Politician
Writer
Jönköpings stad
Dag Hjalmar Agne Carl Hammarskjöld
Must
Endless
Freshness
Giving
Legs
Strain
Quite
Climb
Morning
Climbs
Wish
Replaced
Seems
Muscles
Midday
Give
Determination
Hesitate
Nothing
Suddenly
Weariness

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You cannot play with the animal in you without becoming wholly animal, play with falsehood without forfeiting your right to truth, play with cruelty without losing your sensitivity of mind. He who wants to keep his garden tidy does not reserve a plot for weeds
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Praise those of your critics for whom nothing is up to standard.
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Fatigue dulls the pain, but awakes enticing thoughts of death. So! that is the way in which you are tempted to overcome your loneliness -- by making the ultimate escape from life. -- No! It may be that death is to be your ultimate gift to life: it must not be an act of treachery against it.
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A task becomes a duty from the moment you suspect it to be an essential part of that integrity which alone entitles a man to assume responsibility.
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Those who invoke history will certainly be heard by history. And they will have to accept its verdict.
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The big, shoe-thumping fellow continues as a dark thunderhead to threaten all unrepentant non-Communists with hail and thunder.
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The life of simplicity is simple, but it opens to us a book in which we never get beyond the first syllable.
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Doffing the ego's safe glory, he finds his naked reality.
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I believe that we should die with decency so that at least decency will survive.
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Set-backs in efforts to implement an ideal do not prove that the ideal is wrong...
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Here man is no longer the center of the world, only a witness, but a witness who is also a partner in the silent life of Nature, bound by secret affinities of the trees.
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Maturity - among other things, the unclouded happiness of the child at play, who takes it for granted that he is at one with his play-mates.
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God does not die on the day when we cease to believe in a personal deity, but we die on the day when our lives cease to be illumined by the steady radiance, renewed daily, of a wonder, the source of which is beyond all reason.
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He is one of those who has had the wilderness for a pillow, and called a star his brother. Alone. But loneliness can be a communion.
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Time always seems long to the child who is waiting - for Christmas, for next summer, for becoming a grownup: long also when he surrenders his whole soul to each moment of a happy day.
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I don't know Who, or what, put the question, I don't know when it was put. I don't even remember answering. But at some moment I did answer Yes to Someone, or Something,and from that hour I was certain that existence is meaningful and that, therefore, my life, in self-surrender, had a goal.
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If even dying is to be made a social function, then, grant me the favor of sneaking out on tiptoe without disturbing the party.
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At some moment I did answer Yes to someone or something. And from that hour on I was certain that existence is meaningful.
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Perhaps a great love is never returned. Had it been given warmth and shelter by its counterpart in the Other, perhaps it would have been hindered from ever growing to maturity. It gives us nothing. But in its world of loneliness it leads us up to the summits with wide vistas - of great insights.
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This accidental meeting of possibilities calls itself I. I ask: what am I doing here? And, at once, this I becomes unreal.
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