Helen Keller Quotes
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Hold out your hands to feel the luxury of the sunbeams.
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As the eagle was killed by the arrow winged with his own feather, so the hand of the world is wounded by its own skill.
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One must envision the higher life and behave as if it were a fact before it can unfold.
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Christmas Day is the festival of optimism.
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Joy is the holy fire that keeps our purpose warm and our intelligence aglow.
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The worst thing in the world is not to be born blind, but to be born with sight, and yet have no vision.
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Education should train the child to use his brains, to make for himself a place in the world and maintain his rights even when it seems that society would shove him into the scrap-heap.
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We can drift along with general opinion and tradition, or we can throw ourselves upon the guidance of the soul within and steer courageously toward truth... We have a choice in every event and every limitation and....to choose is to create.
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The heresy of one age becomes the orthodoxy of the next.
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This great republic is a mockery of freedom as long as you are doomed to dig and sweat to earn a miserable living while the masters enjoy the fruit of your toil.
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Every one of us is blind and deaf until our eyes are opened to our fellowmen, until our ears hear the voice of humanity.
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It is certain that I cannot always distinguish my own thoughts from those I read, because what I read becomes the very substance and text of my mind.
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It was my teacher's genius, her quick sympathy, her loving tact which made the first years of my education so beautiful. It was because she seized the right moment to impart knowledge that made it so pleasant and acceptable to me.
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I hung about the dangerous frontier of "guess," avoiding with infinite trouble to myself and others the broad valley of reason.
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Poetry is the gate through which I enter the land of enchantment. Once inside the flaming wall, my limitations fall from me, and my spirit is free.
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I will eat grandfather for dinner.
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One can never consent to creep when one feels an impulse to soar.
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Trying to write is very much like trying to put a Chinese puzzle together. We have a pattern in mind which we wish to work out in words; but the words will not fit the spaces, or, if they do, they will not match the design.
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Sometimes, it is true, a sense of isolation enfolds me like a cold mist as I sit alone and wait at life’s shut gate. Beyond there is light, and music, and sweet companionship; but I may not enter. Fate, silent, pitiless, bars the way…Silence sits immense upon my soul. Then comes hope with a smile and whispers, ‘there is joy is self-forgetfulness.’ So I try to make the light in others’ eyes my sun, the music in others; ears my symphony, the smile on others’ lips my happiness.
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What if in my waking hours a sound should ring through the silent halls of hearing? ... Would the bow and string tension of life snap? Would the heart over weighted with sudden joy stop beating for very excess of happiness?
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Hope sees the invisible, feels the intangible, and achieves the impossible.
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I have found out that though the ways in which I can make myself useful are few, yet the work open to me is endless.
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God himself is not secure, having given man dominion over his work.
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Smells are the fallen angels of the senses.