The length of your education is less important than its breadth

Hear the wisdom of Marilyn vos Savant, who declared: “The length of your education is less important than its breadth, and the length of your life is less important than its depth.” These words, though spoken in modern times, carry the cadence of the ancients. For they remind us that it is not the years that measure a soul’s greatness, but the fullness with which those years are lived. It is not the number of books studied that defines the mind, but the range of worlds opened within it. Breadth in learning and depth in living—these are the twin pillars of a life well spent.

The first part of this teaching speaks of education. Many boast of long years in schools, of degrees accumulated, of titles claimed. Yet if their vision is narrow, if their studies never stretch beyond their chosen corner, their minds remain confined. True learning is not only length but breadth—to know the sciences and the arts, to walk among history and philosophy, to embrace perspectives beyond one’s own. The one who studies widely sees connections invisible to the specialist, and builds wisdom that outlasts mere information.

The ancients knew this well. Leonardo da Vinci, though living centuries ago, embodied the truth of breadth. He was painter, engineer, scientist, and dreamer. He did not confine himself to a single discipline, but let his curiosity roam across all realms. It was this vast breadth of study that gave him vision beyond his age, allowing him to design machines centuries before their time and capture in art the mysteries of the human soul. His life shows us that true education is not measured in length of schooling, but in the richness of horizons explored.

The second part of vos Savant’s saying speaks of life itself. Too often, people count their years as though longevity alone were victory. But what is a long life without depth? It is a river that flows wide but shallow, never nourishing the roots along its banks. Depth is found in love given, in truth spoken, in courage shown, in beauty created. A single day lived deeply may outweigh a hundred years lived in apathy. Thus, she calls us not to fear death, but to fear a shallow life.

History again bears witness. Think of Alexander the Great, who died at thirty-two yet changed the face of the world. His conquests, his vision of unity, his cultural exchanges—all ensured his name would echo through millennia. His life was not long, but it was deep, carved with intensity and purpose. And though his deeds were of war, the lesson remains: it is the depth of life that endures, not the length.

This truth should awaken us from slumber. Do not chase endless years of study without widening your mind. Do not chase endless days of survival without deepening your soul. Seek breadth in your learning—read widely, travel when you can, listen to voices different from your own. Seek depth in your living—cherish relationships, pursue meaning, stand for justice, create beauty, love fiercely. These are the marks of one who has lived wisely.

The lesson is clear. If you are a student, do not count your education by years but by the variety of doors it opens. If you are alive, do not measure your life by birthdays but by the richness of each day. Ask yourself: have I lived deeply today? Have I widened my understanding? These questions are the true test of worth, not the ticking of time nor the length of titles.

So remember Marilyn vos Savant’s words: the breadth of your education and the depth of your life are what matter most. Do not strive to live the longest life, but the fullest one. Do not strive to study the longest, but the widest, the richest. For when the end comes, as it comes for all, the question will not be, “How long?” but “How deep? How broad? How true?” Let your answer be one that echoes with pride through eternity.