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Civilization degrades many in order to exalt the few.

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
Degrade
Civilization
Order
Many
Degrades
Exalt

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Our notion of the perfect society embraces the family as its center and ornament, and this paradise is not secure until children appear to animate and complete the picture.
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Who loves a garden, still his Eden keeps, Perennial pleasures plants, and wholesome harvests reaps.
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While one finds company in himself and his pursuits, he cannot feel old, no matter what his years may be.
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None can teach admirably if not loving his task.
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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.
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Memory marks the horizon of our consciousness, imagination its zenith.
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As education becomes inclusive, introspective, cosmic, promoting whole populations to power and privilege, it enthrones a vast, invisible, personal rule over the common mind.
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One must be rich in thought and character to owe nothing to books, though preparation is necessary to profitable reading and the less reading is better than more--book-struck men are of all readers least wise, however knowing or learned.
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Observation more than books and experience more than persons, are the prime educators.
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Enthusiasm imparts itself magnetically and fuses all into one happy and harmonious unity of feeling and sentiment.
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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.
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Love is the key to felicity, nor is there a heaven to any who love not. We enter Paradise through its gates only.
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Opposition strengthens the manly will.
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Experience converts us to ourselves when books fail us.
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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.
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A sip is the most than mortals are permitted from any goblet of delight.
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A check on itself, evil subserves the economies of good, as it were a condiment to give relish to good.
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Truth is inclusive of all the virtues, is older than sects and schools, and, like charity, more ancient than mankind.
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Success is sweet and sweeter if long delayed and gotten through many struggles and defeats.
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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.
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