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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.
From his cradle
He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one,
Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and read more
From his cradle
He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one,
Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading;
Lofty and sour to them that loved him not,
But to those men that sought him, sweet as summer.
Rocking on a lazy billow
With roaming eyes,
Cushioned on a dreamy pillow,
Thou read more
Rocking on a lazy billow
With roaming eyes,
Cushioned on a dreamy pillow,
Thou art now wise.
Wake the power within thee slumbering,
Trim the plot that's in thy keeping,
Thou wilt bless the task when reaping
Sweet labour's prize.
The scholar who cherishes the love of comfort, is not fit to be
deemed a scholar.
The scholar who cherishes the love of comfort, is not fit to be
deemed a scholar.
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?
And with unwearied fingers drawing out
The lines of life, from living knowledge hid.
And with unwearied fingers drawing out
The lines of life, from living knowledge hid.
Today's students can put dope in their veins or hope in their brains. If they can conceive it and believe read more
Today's students can put dope in their veins or hope in their brains. If they can conceive it and believe it, they can achieve it. They must know it is not their aptitude but their attitude that will determine their altitude.
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.
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?