Experience is the best of schoolmasters, only the school-fees are
heavy.

Experience is the best of schoolmasters, only the school-fees are
heavy.

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.

Don't try to fix the students, fix ourselves first. The good teacher makes the poor student good and the good read more

Don't try to fix the students, fix ourselves first. The good teacher makes the poor student good and the good student superior. When our students fail, we, as teachers, too, have failed.

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.

A student never forgets an encouraging private word, when it is given with sincere respect and admiration.

A student never forgets an encouraging private word, when it is given with sincere respect and admiration.

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.

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.

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.