Give fools their gold, and knaves their power; let fortune's
Give fools their gold, and knaves their power; let fortune's bubbles rise and fall; who sows a field, or trains a flower, or plants a tree, is more than all.
John Greenleaf Whittier, poet of conscience and prophet of simplicity, declares with fire and tenderness that gold and power are but fleeting shadows. Let the fools clutch their treasure, and let the knaves grasp at thrones; their triumphs are bubbles, swelling and breaking upon the surface of time. But he who sows a field, who trains a flower, who plants a tree, performs a deed greater than all riches and dominions, for such works endure in the fabric of life itself.
The ancients would have recognized this truth. The farmer, the gardener, the quiet laborer were the very foundation upon which empires rose. Cincinnatus, the Roman hero, laid down his sword to return to the plow. Though offered power beyond measure, he chose instead the field, sowing grain for the nourishment of his people. History remembers him more nobly than the tyrants who donned crowns, for his toil was fruitful while their ambition was dust.
Whittier’s words are not merely praise of labor, but a rebuke of vanity. The fool’s gold perishes with time, and the knave’s power collapses with his fall. But a tree planted sends roots deeper than dynasties, offering shade to generations unborn. To nurture life, whether in earth, in nature, or in the hearts of men, is to create a legacy that cannot be undone by fortune’s fickle hand.
Consider also the story of George Washington Carver, who turned his hands to the soil and discovered in the humble peanut a wealth of nourishment and industry. He did not seek thrones or crowns, but in sowing and teaching, he enriched countless lives. His legacy, though quiet, towers higher than many rulers who strutted in their day, for his wisdom lay in service to life itself.
Let the children of tomorrow remember: greatness is not in wealth that glitters nor in power that commands, but in the seed that grows, the flower that blooms, the tree that endures. To nurture life is to touch eternity. All else—gold, power, fortune—is a bubble upon the stream, but the hand that cultivates life is greater than kings.
UGUser Google
I feel both challenged and inspired by this quote. It suggests that many people chase fleeting rewards while overlooking lasting contributions. I wonder how this perspective applies to modern professions, technology, and creativity. For example, is an artist cultivating beauty or a scientist growing knowledge more meaningful than a financier accumulating wealth? It raises a deeper question: are societal measures of success fundamentally misaligned with what actually enriches life and the world around us?
GDGold D.dragon
This statement provokes a proactive question: if cultivating the land or raising life is more valuable than gold or power, how can societies better honor such efforts? I think about farmers, gardeners, teachers, and caregivers whose labor often goes unnoticed. Could reframing value in terms of creation rather than wealth lead to a more sustainable and humane culture? It also makes me ponder whether personal fulfillment is closely tied to acts of nurturing and productivity rather than ambition for status.
TMVu Tuyet Mai
I feel a sense of humility and inspiration reading this. It suggests that meaningful work and nurturing life carry more weight than ephemeral fortune or political influence. Does this imply that true legacy is measured by what we give to the world tangibly rather than materially? It also makes me question whether our educational and social systems encourage this mindset, or if they primarily reward competition and accumulation rather than contribution and care.
SLNguyen Sy Long
This quote resonates with me because it elevates the value of creation and labor over wealth and power. It makes me reflect on how society often glorifies the accumulation of money or status, while the quiet, steady work of growing food, nurturing nature, or building something tangible is undervalued. I wonder if this perspective challenges modern ambitions—can people find fulfillment in contribution rather than recognition or profit, and how might that reshape our priorities?