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Truth is sensitive and jealous of the least encroachment upon its sacredness.
Amos Bronson Alcott
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Amos Bronson Alcott
Age: 88 †
Born: 1799
Born: November 29
Died: 1888
Died: March 4
Philosopher
Poet
Teacher
Writer
Bronson Alcott
Encroachment
Sacredness
Jealous
Sensitive
Least
Upon
Truth
More quotes by Amos Bronson Alcott
One's life should be sufficiently interesting to furnish entertainment in the record.
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Evil is retributive: every trespass slips fetters on the will, holds the soul in durance till contrition and repentance restore it to liberty.
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A candid spirit is mightier than the most persistent dogmatism.
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Many are those who can argue few are those who can converse
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No one is promiscuous in his way of dying. A man who has decided to hang himself will never jump in front of a train.
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Heaven trims our lamps while we sleep.
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A sip is the most than mortals are permitted from any goblet of delight.
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Civilization degrades the many to exalt the few.
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Despair snuffs the sun from the firmament.
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A government, for protecting business only, is but a carcass, and soon falls by its own corruption and decay.
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We climb to heaven most often on the ruins of our cherished plans, finding our failures were successes.
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The finer literature, indeed, is characterized by a certain suffusion of the feminine flavor, the finer, the more ideal, thought plumed with sentiment even science loves to spring from its feet, philosophy affect the clouds to inspire and edify.
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Experience converts us to ourselves when books fail us.
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Who speaks to the instincts speaks to the deepest in mankind, and finds the readiest response.
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I find my past in my present, and from these forecast my future.
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Man is a living lie--a bitter jest Upon himself--a conscious grain of sand Lost in a desert of unconsciousness.
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Good-humor, gay spirits, are the liberators, the sure cure for spleen and melancholy. Deeper than tears, these irradiate the tophets with their glad heavens. Go laugh, vent the pits, transmuting imps into angels by the alchemy of smiles. The satans flee at the sight of these redeemers.
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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.
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Nor is a day lived if the dawn is left out of it, with the prospects it opens. Who speaks charmingly of nature or of mankind, like him who comes bibulous of sunrise and the fountains of waters?
Amos Bronson Alcott
Every dogma embodies some shade of truth to give it seeming currency.
Amos Bronson Alcott