It is never our tenderness…

When death, the great reconciler, has come, it is never our tenderness that we repent of, but our severity.

George Eliot (1819 – 1880)

A personal thought

Written as an American Sentence

This must include tenderness (versus severity) towards ourselves.


Yom Kippur (the holiest day of the year for Jews) runs from sunset on Wednesday to sunset on Thursday this year. Therefore, I have scheduled this post in advance, as I will be offline for 25 hours until sunset on Thursday. I look forward to reconnecting with you soon!

25 thoughts on “It is never our tenderness…”

  1. A personal thought in an American Sentence including tenderness (versus severity) to ourselves:

    Restraining my flagellant’s switch, I raise a branch budding tender olives, while its mate, knotted severely as a noose, holds peace.

    Shana Tova

          1. Shoot ! 🤪 auto corrected your name. So are you Ben or David

          2. *laughing*

            I’m David.

            My pen name is confusing because ‘ben’ actually means ‘son of’ in Hebrew… and my father’s name was ‘Alexander’ – so I’m ‘ben Alexander’… but my actual name is David ❤

            Should I refer to you as Rarewise?


          3. Another person whose name is Mel – I thought it was you 🙂
            (I was responding to a lot of comments on my blog all at the same time, and made a mistake!)

          4. I do that all the time 🤦🏼‍♀️🙈

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