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It is a frightening fact that a man may do a thing right a thousand times, and then do it wrong just once, and tragedy comes. Except for some very narrow escapes, perhaps any of us or all of us could be numbered with those whom we pity or with those whom we condemn. And we may never even know how narrowly we may have missed the fate of someone who has fallen into misfortune.
Last week we cited this sentence: "Make an enemy, and you see him everywhere,"1—and suggested the wisdom of settling differences before sundown. We often hear the phrase, "Forgive and forget"—but may sometimes forget how much "forgetting" is a part of "forgiving."
Somewhere there is a sentence which says in substance: "Make an enemy, and you see him everywhere."1 If we have ever walked out of our way to avoid speaking to someone, we no doubt remember how uncomfortable we were. The more people we feel we have to avoid, the more ill at case we are.
There is a long-told tale of Alexander the Great, who paused, at the age of thirty-two, at the tomb of Cyrus the Great—Cyrus who had preceded Alexander by some two centuries. Each in his own time had conquered virtually all he could see and had acquired more than his understanding could encompass.
As a memorial was being considered to commemorate the accomplishment of some great people of the past, one in the group expressed considerable concern in having seen someone peering at a portrait of a great personality of the past, and saying, altogether unimpressed: "Who's he? What did he do?"
We have read somewhere in some rules of safety the following sentence: “Never point a gun at anything you don’t intend to shoot.” This is basic to a whole series of parallel precautions essentially summarized in this single short sentence: “Don’t start what you shouldn’t do.” It applies to habits, to projects and promises, to […]
There likely isn't a much greater loneliness than the loneliness of a man who cannot find comfort and assurance and help outside himself. There likely isn't much greater loneliness than the loneliness of a man who has never found effectively in his life the great and moving power of prayer..
Perhaps all of us pursue some things which, after we acquire them, seem somewhat shallow or shoddy or at least unessential. And then we wonder why we wished for them so much and worked for them so hard and passed up more worthwhile things we might have had. There is a parable by John Ruskin […]
The passing of any season is somewhat sobering, or any day, or any period of the past. When a season begins, when a day begins, we think what we will do with it—what we haven't done—what we should do.
We closed last week with a quoted comment that “the outlook for our country lies in the quality of its idleness. . . .”1 To this we would add that the outlook of an individual lies in the quality of his idleness also. There comes a time in the lives of those who live longer, […]
These words of dedication from a grateful author currently appear in print: "To my own mother and father and to all parents like them, who have dedicated their lives to providing their children with the world's best inheritance—The Will to Work and the Wisdom to Enjoy It"1
These recent weeks we have considered happiness and. ignorance and understanding: the need for understanding facts and places, and people—perhaps especially people, for we so much need an understanding of each other, at home, at school, at work, in marriage, and in every relationship of life.
Last week we referred to the fallacy of the old adage that “ignorance is bliss”—and to the need for understanding. Now to turn for a moment to another phase of this subject of ignorance and understanding. Some centuries ago, Nicholas Ling said that “Ignorance is a voluntary misfortune.”1 And John Locke later added: “A man […]
We spoke last week of happiness, of discontent, and of the problem of comparisons, and cited this two-century-old sentence: "If one only wished to be happy, this could be easily accomplished; but we wish to be happier than other people, and this is always difficult, for we believe others to be happier than they are."1
A sentence written some two or more centuries ago is significant in the search for the happiness that all of us so much seek. “If one only wished to be happy,” it says, “this could be easily accomplished; but we wish to be happier than other people, and this is always difficult, for we believe […]
Last week we cited a sentence from Sir Richard Livingstone that "the young, whether they know it or not, live on borrowed property,"1 and observed that all of us borrow much from many, from the present and the past, and that we are deeply indebted to too many to mention.
In a significant sentence Sir Richard Livingstone once said: "The young, whether they know it or not, live on borrowed property."1 At all ages, young or old, we all borrow much, and we are deeply aware today, at the beginning of' our thirty-first year on the air, of' the borrowing we have done, and of the debt we owe to too many to mention.
We have talked in recent weeks of self-control, of the fact that every man must sometime be trusted to himself, and of the influencing of others by the living example of our lives. And now, as to some further related thoughts on this general theme: Time passes with exceeding swiftness between the time when we are very young and free and flexible until the time when thoughts and habits and attitudes become somewhat firmly fixed.
May we recall these two phrases from a moving and meaningful song: "Confirm thy soul in self-control, Thy liberty in law."1 Always and earnestly urgent in all the issues and in all the aspects of life are "self-control" and "liberty" and "law." And always to be taught, and never to be forgotten, is that liberty is preserved by law.
Last week we talked of the feelings of self-sufficiency that sometimes seem to assert themselves when people feel sure that they no longer have need of others, and we reminded ourselves that no man can be sure he will not have need of others, ever, nor be sure that he will not need someone soon, no matter how successful or how assured life looks
Last week we closed with a sentence from John Locke on the teaching and training of children, in which he said: "For you must take this for a certain truth, that let them have what instructions you will, and ever so learned lectures . . . daily inculcated into them, that which will most influence their carriage will be the company they converse with, and the fashion of those about them."1
Last week we recalled some sentences on self-control and some thoughts concerning those who leave home, for school, for employment, for other purposes, and cited this significant sentence: "Every man must sometime or other be trusted to himself."1
As to mental, physical and spiritual discipline, sometime ago we cited some sentences from John Locke which said: "Consent to nothing but what may be suitable to the dignity and excellency of a rational creature. . ..
We are mindful these days of young people who are moving into life's more permanent pursuits. We are mindful also of the many decisions facing those who have completed some part of their preparation, and who must now or soon decide whether to quit or how far to proceed with further preparation. It is difficult to generalize, for each case carries its own set of circumstances.
Last week, it may be recalled, we closed with a quotation from an ancient Roman writer: “Do you expect, forsooth,” he said, “that a mother will hand down to her children principles which differ from her own?”1 This compelling question could well be asked by all who contemplate marriage, and who are wise enough to […]
We have concerned ourselves somewhat these past two weeks with mothers, and daughters, and wives, and the place of women in the world, and should like to pursue the subject with these few further thoughts: In considering ideals and objectives, and the sometimes overemphasis on social considerations, and appeals merely to appearance. Ruskin wrote: “The […]
In speaking of mothers, of daughters, of wives, we should like to turn a moment or two to the place of women in the world. Of course, in some respects it has so greatly shifted—so greatly that greatly seems almost too weak a word.
In speaking to an occasion, a century or so ago, Rufus Choate left some lines on love of country that seem to have as much of meaning for love of home: "There is a love he said, "which comes uncalled for, one knows not how. It comes with the very air, the eye, the ear, the instincts, . . . the first beatings of the heart.
Today in a few sentences we should like to share some thoughts on physical fitness, on health and happiness. People may perform well despite physical frailties, despite impairments, despite ill health, and many heroically do; but this doesn't set aside the fact that a person could better think, could better serve, could better perform with all sides of himself fully functioning.
Some recent weeks ago we talked of being in the world, but not of it, and of the impossibility of pleasing all people. And now currently we recall this quotation accredited to a significant source: "I cannot give you the formula for success, but I can give you the formula for failure—try to please everybody."1