“They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety.”
— Franklin's Contributions to the Conference on February 17 (III) Fri, Feb 17, 1775
Dr. Benjamin Franklin: Treason is a charge invented by winners as an excuse for hanging the losers.
John Adams: [scoffs] I have more to do than stand here listening to you quote yourself.
Dr. Benjamin Franklin: [hurt] No, John that was a new one.
— “1776”
“Love your Enemies, for they tell you your Faults.”
— Benjamin Franklin, Poor Richard’s Almanack, 1756
Don’t you hate people that no matter what the opinion, they are always prepared with some ageless line of reason from a dead philosopher or pundit (usually Benjamin Franklin) that perfectly validates their position? They always seem to be prepared, at a moment’s notice, to pull that perfectly apropos gem of wisdom out of thin air, insert it into the conversation, and totally blow everyone away. It is their way of saying, “I’m right, and Franklin agrees with me. How can you argue against that?” You can, but most of the time you’d probably be wrong, or just stubborn.
But aside from this personal pet peeve, I’m fascinated by quotations. I've often wondered — does a writer know when he/she has written an idea that is quotable? Is it something that just happens in the course of writing, that words scribbled on a page or typed onto a screen scream, “Hey! I’m something special!”?
Can you just imagine: Franklin, scribbling away by candlelight, creative juices flowing as he fashions his argument – pro or con – and suddenly inspiration strikes. In some cases, it is a gradual dawning as the pieces of his debate shuffle and fall slowly into place, leaving him with a perfect illustration of the sense he is attempting to verbally convey. Or it may stun him like a lightning strike, as he mentally steps back and sudden is able to view his whole argument as a single, simple snapshot. He is able to see the whole forest without the shadowing of its leafy canopy, the concealment of the underbrush or one tree’s concept blocking another.
In either case, the result is the same. There is that momentary rush of adrenalin, the excitement of a new capital-“T”-Truth being reveled to you; the fear and anxiety of quickly scratching the idea onto the paper before it flees back into the darkness, lost, never to be seen or hear from again; the pleasure of having the exact words to transfer your idea – your heart, soul, thoughts and emotions – on to the audience you’re writing; that intimate moment of eros between a writer and a reader that transcends even the words on the page.
Or does it happen that the words just follow the others on the page, building the writer’s point of view or summarizing her thoughts, oblivious to their “truthiness” (if I may borrow the word) until a reader, following the line of words suddenly realizes that the writer has said something profound. Then Dear Reader marks the passage, sometimes committing it to memory to pass on the pearl to others. And thus a quotation comes into the world.
I suspect, more often than not, it is the latter. Most writers of my acquaintance – myself included – are a self-doubting bunch with a few exceptions (Harlan Ellison comes to mind…). While we may feel proud of our work, many don’t feel it is ever finished to their satisfaction, and yet release it into the wild under protest. Once having done so, we sit by, cringing and wringing of hands, to wait for the criticism to flow like blood from an open cut, even picking at the scab (“did you really like it?”) to keep the opinion flowing because, after all, any reaction is better than none at all. While we may labor or sweat blood over a particular passage, at most we feel a satisfaction in exercising our craft to the best of our abilities. I can imagine most writers are at least a little surprised (not to mention the ego strokes) when said passage is singled out for special attentions or attains status in that Holy of Holies, Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations.
But if you think about the most popular quotations, they seem to transcend mere prose; as if the words are a code or a formula. The quote is an idea, so perfectly distilled into a few words or lines that are able to convey the spirit of the idea in the highest proof. And like Franklin’s often quoted words on liberty and security, even when they spark debate, it is from such a broad platform and solid foundation that even more profound truths can come of it. I think that is the essence of what makes a quote so quotable.
And you can quote me on that.
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