Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small

The noble words of Eleanor Roosevelt—“Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people”—are not merely a commentary on conversation, but a profound reflection on the levels of human thought. These words, like a mirror held up to the soul, reveal the measure of our consciousness. They ask: What fills your mind when the day grows quiet? Do you dwell upon ideas that uplift and transform, upon events that pass like shadows across time, or upon people, whose faults and fortunes you neither own nor control? In this simple triad, the former First Lady spoke an eternal truth—the hierarchy of thought that divides the visionary, the ordinary, and the petty.

The great mind is not content with the surface of the world. It seeks to understand the principles beneath it—the unseen forces that shape destiny, the laws of nature, the movements of nations, the mysteries of the soul. Such a mind is like an eagle, soaring above the clouds, seeing far, thinking deep, and forever asking why. The average mind, bound by the earth yet not without curiosity, is moved by events—what happens, who wins, who loses. It watches the tides of history, but seldom shapes them. And the small mind, trapped in the narrow cage of gossip and judgment, spends its breath upon people, their flaws, their appearances, their fleeting triumphs and follies. Thus, in her wisdom, Roosevelt was not condemning humanity, but calling it upward—urging all to lift their gaze from the trivial to the timeless.

In the ancient world, philosophers like Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle embodied the spirit of the great mind. When the Athenians feasted or quarreled over politics, Socrates walked among them, asking questions that pierced to the heart of truth. “What is justice?” he asked. “What is virtue?” His concern was not for who had wronged whom, nor who ruled Athens that season, but for the idea of goodness itself. While others debated names and scandals, he pursued eternal wisdom. And though they condemned him to death, his ideas outlived his judges by millennia. Thus do the great live on—not in their fame, but in their thoughts that never die.

Even in our modern age, this truth shines clear. Consider Eleanor Roosevelt herself, born into privilege but tempered by hardship. She could have spent her days in idle conversation and social amusement. Yet her mind was drawn to ideas of justice, equality, and peace. During the dark years of the Great Depression and World War II, she did not gossip about generals or celebrities—she spoke of human rights, of the dignity of the common man, of a world reborn in freedom. It was she who helped craft the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, an idea so luminous that it still lights the conscience of nations today. Through her, we see that to discuss ideas is to build the architecture of a better world.

Yet, how easily the human spirit slips from the heights! The temptation to dwell upon people—their flaws, their failings, their fortunes—is sweet and poisonous. Gossip flatters the ego, for it allows the small mind to feel large by diminishing others. But those who live in the house of gossip dwell in darkness; they waste their words on what perishes, and their souls grow thin as smoke. To speak of ideas, however, is to plant seeds in the soil of eternity. Even one conversation about truth, beauty, or justice may bear fruit long after the speaker’s voice has faded.

Remember, then, children of thought: the mind is like a vessel, and whatever you pour into it, that shall shape its destiny. Fill it with great ideas, and it shall grow vast and luminous, reflecting the wisdom of the ages. Fill it with events, and it shall drift upon the waves of time, never anchored, never deep. Fill it with people’s faults, and it shall shrink and sour, becoming a prison of envy and noise. Choose wisely what you feed your mind, for that is what your spirit shall become.

So let this be the lesson: Speak of ideas that lift the soul. Seek knowledge. Read the words of the wise. Discuss not who stumbled, but how the world might rise. When you gather with friends, talk not of rumors but of dreams, not of failures but of possibilities. Build conversations that build worlds. For as the ancients taught, the tongue is a spark—it may burn or it may enlighten. Let your words be torches that guide others upward. Then, truly, you shall walk among the great minds.