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The same is true of love, and the instinctive desire to please those whom we love. the teacher who succeeds in getting herself loved by the pupils will obtain results which one of a more forbidding temperament finds it impossible to secure.

-William James

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The Same Is True Of Love, And

William James

The same is true of love, and the instinctive desire to please those whom we love. the teacher who succeeds in getting herself loved by the pupils will obtain results which one of a more forbidding temperament finds it impossible to secure.

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    <p style="font-size: 1.2rem; font-style: italic; margin-bottom: 10px;">"the same is true of love, and the instinctive desire to please those whom we love. the teacher who succeeds in getting herself loved by the pupils will obtain results which one of a more forbidding temperament finds it impossible to secure."</p>
    <footer style="font-size: 1rem; font-weight: bold;">— William James</footer>
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Topic

Teacher Teaching Self Love

More From William James

A game master or teacher who was primarily concerned with being close enough to the "innermost meaning" would be a very bad teacher. to be candid, i myself, for example, have never in my life said a word to my pupils about the "meaning" of music; if there is one it does not need my explanations. on the other hand i have always made a great point of having my pupils count their eighths and sixteenths nicely. whatever you become, teacher, scholar, or musician, have respect for the "meaning" but do not imagine that it can be taught.

Would you please please please please please please please stop talking?

So she had to satisfy herself with the idea of love - loving the loving of things whose existence she didn't care at all about. love itself became the object of her love. she loved herself in love, she loved loving love, as love loves loving, and was able, in that way, to reconcile herself with a world that fell so short of what she would have hoped for. it was not the world that was the great and saving lie, but her willingness to make it beautiful and fair, to live a once-removed life, in a world once-removed from the one in which everyone else seemed to exist.

Saddam hussein greeted me with a handshake, which, again to my surprise, is surprisingly soft considering how many people that hand had dispatched, allegedly. i think he's quite a forbidding presence, too forbidding a presence to be charming. but he's interesting.

There's a wonderful old italian joke about a poor man who goes to church every day and prays before the statue of a great saint,'dear saint-please, please, please...give me the grace to win the lottery.' this lament goes on for months. finally the exasperated statue come to life, looks down at the begging man and says in weary disgust,'my son-please, please, please...buy a ticket.

I tried to concentrate on the angel's voice instead. "bella, please! bella, listen to me, please, please, please, bella, please!" he begged. yes, i wanted to say. anything. but i couldn't find my lips. "carlisle!" the angel called, agony in his perfect voice. "bella, bella, no, oh please, no, no!" and the angel was sobbing tearless, broken sobs. the angel shouldn't weep, it was wrong. i tried to find him, to tell him everything was fine, but the water was so deep, it was pressing on me, and i couldn't breathe.

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By his machines man can dive and remain under water like a shark; can fly like a hawk in the air; can see atoms like a gnat; can see the system of the universe of uriel, the angel of the sun; can carry whatever loads a ton of coal can lift; can knock down cities with his fist of gunpowder; can recover the history of his race by the medals which the deluge, and every creature, civil or savage or brute, has involuntarily dropped of its existence; and divine the future possibility of the planet and its inhabitants by his perception of laws of nature.

May your neighbors respect you, trouble neglect you, angels protect you and heaven accept you

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