“An idea always lives in individuals. It seeks an individual to transmit its great intellectual force. It becomes alive in a brain, and seeks escape through the mouth. The idea is preached by individuals, individuals who will never be satisfied to have the knowledge remain theirs alone. You know that from experience. When one knows something one does not keep it hidden like a buried treasure, rather one seeks to tell others. One looks for people who should know it. One feels that everyone else should know to, for one feels alone when no one else knows. For example, if I see a beautiful painting in an art gallery, I have the need to tell others. I meet a good friend and say to him: “I have found a wonderful picture. I have to show it to you.” The same is true of ideas. If an idea lives in an individual, he has the urge to tell others. There is some mysterious force in us that drives us to tell others. The greater and simpler the idea is, the more it relates to daily life, the more one has the desire to tell everyone about it.”
The author…you’ll be surprised and shamed? Read more…
One Josef Goebbels, Nazi propaganda minister.
The Nazis had such powerful and poetic means of expression. Their greatest sins must have been yoking the sublime to pull their chariot of venom.
The power of poetic speaking should net be forgotten, FastCompany hit it on the head:
Dare to be Shakespeare. Afraid of poetry? Get over it. The simplest, most connective language is poetry. Look at Springsteen’s “Land of Hope and Dreams,” which is full of poetry. Or take, for example, something that Jobs once said: “There are so many exciting things in our headlights that will take us through the next two to three years. Only after that will we start to send people out into the darkness.” That is pure Abe Lincoln.
It’s amazing to think that our rational, clear, beloved English is really a series of magic spells [ _whoa - Snow Crash anyone? -sgh _]. But consider this: Linguistics professors tape ordinary speech and then play it back so slow and loud that you think you’re in a Tibetan temple. At the level of pure sound, all conversations mutate into “om,” or some gong-toned, muscle-deep, throbbing chant.
It’s eerie. We are all singing a religious song – even when we are asking for a second martini.
The most followed leaders are romantic poets whose songs have bled off the page and into life. What a great excuse leadership is: You can sing – even if “in real life” you’re just a doctor, a lawyer, or an Indian chief. Sing