Top 158 Quotes & Sayings by Amos Bronson Alcott - Page 2

Every noble life becomes a revelation of the spirit which the love and joy of mankind cannot let perish from remembrance.

An author who sets his reader on sounding the depths of his own thoughts serves him best.

Our dreams drench us in senses, and senses steps us again in dreams.

Man is a living lie--a bitter jest Upon himself--a conscious grain of sand Lost in a desert of unconsciousness.

Nor do we accept, as genuine the person not characterized by this blushing bashfulness, this youthfulness of heart, this sensibility to the sentiment of suavity and self-respect. Modesty is bred of self-reverence. Fine manners are the mantle of fair minds. None are truly great without this ornament.

If the ancients left us ideas, to our credit be it spoken that we moderns are building houses for them -- structures which neither Plato nor Archimedes had dreamed possible.

Love is the key to felicity, nor is there a heaven to any who love not. We enter Paradise through its gates only.

Books are the most mannerly of companions, accessible at all times, in all moods, frankly declaring the author's mind, without offense.

Divination seems heightened and raised to its highest power in woman.

Opposition strengthens the manly will.

Would Shakespeare and Raleigh have done their best, would that galaxy have shone so bright in the heavens had there been no Elizabeth on the throne?

The passions refuse to be organized on a basis of their own; hostile to personal freedom and one another, they rush precipitately into anarchy and mob rule.

Truth is inclusive of all the virtues, is older than sects and schools, and, like charity, more ancient than mankind.

I consider it the best part of an education to have been born and brought up in the country.

One cannot celebrate books sufficiently. After saying his best, still something better remains to be spoken in their praise. As with friends, one finds new beauties at every interview, and would stay long in the presence of those choice companions. As with friends, he may dispense with a wide acquaintance. Few and choice. The richest minds need not large libraries.

Without a mythology, faith is impersonal and heartless.

Creeds, like other goods, pass by inheritance to descendants.

One's life should be sufficiently interesting to furnish entertainment in the record.

Education may work wonders as well in warping the genius of individuals as in seconding it.

A work of real merit finds favor at last.

Easy come, easy go... "Achieve-everything-while-doing-nothing" schemes don't work, they are just not logical

All unrest is but the struggle of the soul to reassure herself of her inborn immortality.

None can teach admirably if not loving his task.

Genius--the free and harmonious play of all the faculties of a human being.

Pleasure, that immortal essence, the beauteous bead sparkling in the cup, effervesces soon and subsides.

Nature is thought immersed in matter. . .

Ideas in the head set hands about their several tasks.

Traveling is no fool's errand to him who carries his eyes and itinerary along with him.

The head best leaves to the heart what the heart alone divines.

Memory marks the horizon of our consciousness, imagination its zenith.

A friendship formed in childhood, in youth,--by happy accident at any stage of rising manhood,--becomes the genius that rules the rest of life.

Modesty, that perennial flower planted instinctively in the human breast, blooms therein only as continence guards and virtue keeps.

Plans made in the nursery Can change the course of history

One's outlook is a part of his virtue.

Pity the mother who assumes the name without being all this implies!

Evil is retributive: every trespass slips fetters on the will, holds the soul in durance till contrition and repentance restore it to liberty.

One must espouse some pursuit, taking it kindly at heart and with enthusiasm.

When one becomes indifferent to women, to children, and young people., he may know that he is superannuated, and has withdrawn from whatsoever is sweetest and purest in human existence.

Sleep on your writing; take a walk over it; scrutinize it of a morning; review it of an afternoon; digest it after a meal; let it sleep in your drawer a twelvemonth; never venture a whisper about it to your friend, if he be an author especially.

A state, a community, caring first for all its children, providing amply for their spiritual as for their temporal well-being, has organized the primitive Eden.

Of gifts, there seems none more becoming to offer a friend than a beautiful book.

The history of books shows the humblest origin of some of the most valued, wrought as these were out of obscure materials by persons whose names thereafter became illustrious. The thumbed volumes, now so precious to thousands, were compiled from personal experiences and owe their interest to touches of inspiration of which the writer was less author than amanuensis, himself the voiced word of life for all times.

Whatsoever stirs the stagnant currents, setting these flowing in wholesome directions, promotes brisk spirits and productive thinking. The less of routine, the more of life.

Friends are the leaders of the bosom, being more ourselves than we are, and we complement our affections in theirs.

Life is one, religion one, creeds are many and diverse.

The fable runs that the gods mix our pains and pleasure in one cup, and thus mingle for us the adulterate immortality which we alone are permitted here to enjoy. Voluptuous raptures, could we prolong these at pleasure, would dissipate and dissolve us. A sip is the most that mortals are permitted from any goblet of delight.

Conversation is an abandonment to ideas, a surrender to persons.

Labor humanizes, exalts.

Friendship is a plant that loves the sun, thrives ill under clouds.

A sip is the most than mortals are permitted from any goblet of delight.

Who loves a garden still his Eden keeps.

Genius has oftenest been the pariah of his time, the unhoused god whom none cared for, unnamed till they whom he first promoted, enriched and honored, found it honorable to own their benefactor.

Travel makes all men countrymen, makes people noblemen and kings, every man tasting of liberty and dominion.

Our favorites are few; since only what rises from the heart reaches it, being caught and carried on the tongues of men wheresoever love and letters journey.

Children are illuminated text-books, breviaries of doctrine, living bodies of divinity, open always and inviting their elders to peruse the characters inscribed on the lovely leaves.

In the ardor of his enthusiasm, a youth set forth in quest of a man of whom he might take counsel as to his future, but after long search and many disappointments, he came near relinquishing the pursuit as hopeless, when suddenly it occurred to him that one must first be a man to find a man, and profiting by this suggestion, he set himself to the work of becoming himself the man he had been seeking so long and fruitlessly.

The wisest and best are repulsive, if they are characterized by repulsive manners. Politeness is an easy virtue, costs little, and has great purchasing power.

Truth is sensitive and jealous of the least encroachment upon its sacredness.

There is virtue in country houses, in gardens and orchards, in fields, streams and groves, in rustic recreations and plain manners, that neither cities nor universities enjoy.

Sympathy wanting, all is wanting; its personal magnetism is the conductor of the sacred spark that lights our atoms, puts us m human communion, and gives us to company, conversation, and ourselves.