Where should the scholar live? In solitude, or in society? in
the green stillness of the country, where he read more

Where should the scholar live? In solitude, or in society? in
the green stillness of the country, where he can hear the heart
of Nature beat, or in the dark, gray town where he can hear and
feel the throbbing heart of man?

Strange to the world, he wore a bashful look,
The fields his study, nature was his book.

Strange to the world, he wore a bashful look,
The fields his study, nature was his book.

The world's great men have not commonly been great scholars, nor
its great scholars great men.

The world's great men have not commonly been great scholars, nor
its great scholars great men.

Take the attitude of a student, never be too big to ask questions, never know too much to learn something read more

Take the attitude of a student, never be too big to ask questions, never know too much to learn something new.

Students now arrive at the university ignorant and cynical about our political heritage, lacking the wherewithal to be either inspired read more

Students now arrive at the university ignorant and cynical about our political heritage, lacking the wherewithal to be either inspired by it or seriously critical of it

It is important that students bring a certain rafamuffin, barefoot, irreverence to their studies; they are not here to worship read more

It is important that students bring a certain rafamuffin, barefoot, irreverence to their studies; they are not here to worship what is known, but to question it

Ah, pensive scholar, what is fame?
A fitful tongue of leaping flame;
A giddy whirlwind's fickle gust,
read more

Ah, pensive scholar, what is fame?
A fitful tongue of leaping flame;
A giddy whirlwind's fickle gust,
That lifts a pinch of mortal dust;
A few swift years, and who can show
Which dust was Bill, and which was Joe?

The studious class are their own victims; they are thin and pale,
their feet are cold, their heads are read more

The studious class are their own victims; they are thin and pale,
their feet are cold, their heads are hot, the night is without
sleep, the day a fear of interruption,--pallor, squalor, hunger,
and egotism. If you come near them and see what conceits they
entertain--they are abstractionists, and spend their days and
nights in dreaming some dream; in expecting the homage of society
to some precious scheme built on a truth, but destitute of
proportion in its presentment, of justness in its application,
and of all energy of will in the schemer to embody and vitalize
it.

Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school.

Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school.