Top 15 Charles William Eliot Quotes

Books are the quietest and most constant of friends; they are the most accessible and wisest of counselors, and the most patient of teachers.

Books are the quietest and most constant of friends; they are the most accessible and wisest of counsellors, and the most patient of teachers.

You must have lost your senses!” cried the mother. “What has become of the goat?” “Oh — oh — oh! I was so unlucky. I sold it for a twisted bun!” The moment he uttered the words he realized what it was to sell the goat for a bun; he had not thought about it before. The mother said, — “What do you imagine the little goat thinks of you now, since you were willing to sell it for a twisted bun?” The boy reflected upon this himself, and felt perfectly sure that he never could know happiness more in this world — nor in heaven either, he thought, afterwards. He was so overwhelmed with sorrow that he promised himself that he would never do anything wrong again

And on the roof was a little goat belonging to Oyvind; it was kept there that it might not wander away, and Oyvind bore leaves and grass up to it. One fine day the goat leaped down and was off to the cliff; it went straight up and soon stood where it had never been before. Oyvind did not see the goat when he came out in the afternoon, and thought at once of the fox.

If it seemeth to thee that thou knowest many things, and understandest them well, know also that there are many more things which thou knowest not.

Believe me, my friends, it is with talents as with virtue; one must love them for their own sake, or entirely renounce them. And neither of them is acknowledged and rewarded, except when their possessor can practise them unseen, like a dangerous secret.

"Human nature," I continued, "has its limits. It is able to endure a certain degree of joy, sorrow, and pain, but becomes annihilated as soon as this measure is exceeded. The question, therefore, is, not whether a man is strong or weak, but whether he is able to endure the measure of his sufferings. The suffering may be moral or physical; and in my opinion it is just as absurd to call a man a coward who destroys himself, as to call a man a coward who dies of a malignant fever."

"We should daily repeat to ourselves," I exclaimed, "that we should not interfere with our friends, unless to leave them in possession of their own joys, and increase their happiness by sharing it with them!"

Whatsoever is delighted in solitude is either a wild beast or a god.

Enter to grow in wisdom. / Depart to serve better thy country and thy kind.

A university teaches. What does it teach? It must obviously teach all the languages in which the great literatures which have been preserved were written — Hebrew, Arabic, Sanskrit, Greek, Latin, French, Italian, German, Scandinavian, and English.

Is it — because I — am a houseman’s son that I only stand number nine or ten?” “No doubt that was it,” replied the school-master. “Then it is of no use for me to work,” said Oyvind, drearily, and all his bright dreams vanished. Suddenly he raised his head, lifted his right hand, and bringing it down on the table with all his might, flung himself forward on his face and burst into passionate tears.

Shallow men believe in luck, believe in circumstances: It was somebody’s name, or he happened to be there at the time, or, it was so then, and another day it would have been otherwise. Strong men believe in cause and effect. The man was born to do it, and his father was born to be the father of him and of this deed, and, by looking narrowly, you shall see there was no luck in the matter, but it was all a problem in arithmetic, or an experiment in chemistry. The curve of the flight of the moth is preordained, and all things go by number, rule, and weight.

"You allow that we designate a disease as mortal when Nature is so severely attacked, and her strength so far exhausted, that she cannot possibly recover her former condition under any change that may take place. "Now, my good friend, apply this to the mind; observe a man in his natural, isolated condition; consider how ideas work, and how impressions fasten on him, till at length a violent passion seizes him, destroying all his powers of calm reflection, and utterly ruining him.

Old horse! old horse! what brought you here?” — “From Sacarap to Portland pier I’ve carted stone this many a year: Till, killed by blows and sore abuse, They salted me down for sailors’ use The sailors they do me despise: They turn me over and damn my eyes; Cut off my meat, and pick my bones, And pitch the rest to Davy Jones.