"One of the reasons why so few of us ever act, instead of react, is because we are continually stifling our deepest impulses"
About this Quote
To act is to originate movement from within; to react is to be bounced around by events, expectations, and other peoples agendas. The observation points to how often life becomes a chain of responses to alarms, deadlines, and norms, while the deeper urges that could set a true direction are muffled before they can speak. Fear of disapproval, the habit of self-surveillance, and the internalized critic trained by school, family, and culture all work to keep the raw, generative impulse underground. The result is a life of defense rather than creation, cleverness rather than courage.
Henry Miller built his art on recovering that inner source. As an American expatriate in 1930s Paris, later notorious for books banned on grounds of obscenity, he argued that the wellspring of eros, curiosity, and spiritual appetite is also the wellspring of art. Calling these drives impulses is not a dismissal of reason but a correction to a civilization that prizes control and productivity while secretly craving aliveness. He saw the deepest impulse as a life force, not mere whim, and believed that when it is continually stifled, we become spectators of our own days, reacting to everything and originating almost nothing.
There is a risk here: impulse without awareness can be reckless. But Miller presses a different danger, more common and more invisible: a slow anesthesia of the soul where prudence becomes paralysis. Acting, in his sense, requires cultivating an inner ear sharp enough to distinguish appetite from calling, noise from signal, and then daring to bear the consequences of choosing. That is why creative work, intimate relationships, and ethical stands feel so exposed; they are not reactions to a script but wagers on an inner truth.
In an age of notifications and comment threads, reactivity is a business model. The challenge remains the same as in Millers time: to stop muting the subterranean voice long enough to let it lead, and to accept the risks that come with authorship of a life.
Henry Miller built his art on recovering that inner source. As an American expatriate in 1930s Paris, later notorious for books banned on grounds of obscenity, he argued that the wellspring of eros, curiosity, and spiritual appetite is also the wellspring of art. Calling these drives impulses is not a dismissal of reason but a correction to a civilization that prizes control and productivity while secretly craving aliveness. He saw the deepest impulse as a life force, not mere whim, and believed that when it is continually stifled, we become spectators of our own days, reacting to everything and originating almost nothing.
There is a risk here: impulse without awareness can be reckless. But Miller presses a different danger, more common and more invisible: a slow anesthesia of the soul where prudence becomes paralysis. Acting, in his sense, requires cultivating an inner ear sharp enough to distinguish appetite from calling, noise from signal, and then daring to bear the consequences of choosing. That is why creative work, intimate relationships, and ethical stands feel so exposed; they are not reactions to a script but wagers on an inner truth.
In an age of notifications and comment threads, reactivity is a business model. The challenge remains the same as in Millers time: to stop muting the subterranean voice long enough to let it lead, and to accept the risks that come with authorship of a life.
Quote Details
| Topic | Self-Improvement |
|---|
More Quotes by Henry
Add to List
