O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless… of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?

Boys, you must strive to find your own voice, because the longer you wait to begin the less likely you are to find it at all.

I have decided, it is fruitless. For I am no longer sure of anything concerning my existance. A philosopher is a dead poet and a dying theologian.

There’s a time for daring and there’s a time for caution, and a wise man understands which is called for.

The meek may inherit the earth, but they don’t get in to Harvard.

But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.

I stand upon my desk to remind myself that we must constantly look at things in a different way.

The first movie that made me cry was Dead Poets Society. That one gets me. O Captain! My Captain! That moment kills me.

Mr. Anderson thinks that everything inside of him is worthless and embarrassing. Isn’t that right, Todd? And that’s your worse fear.

No poet, no artist of any art, has his complete meaning alone. His significance, his appreciation is the appreciation of his relation to the dead poets and artists. You cannot value him alone; you must set him, for contrast and comparison, among the dead.

Your True Nature Is Love. There’s Nothing You Can Do About It.

I am that merry wanderer of the night.

Let me dispel a few rumors so they don’t fester into facts.

Avoid using the word ‘very‘ because it’s lazy. A man is not very tired, he is exhausted. Don’t use very sad, use morose. Language was invented for one reason boys – to woo women – and in that endeavor, laziness will not do.

The first time I ever cried in a movie was in Dead Poet’s Society.

But only in their dreams can men be truly free. It was always thus and always thus will be.

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately.

We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race.

Written poetry is worth reading once, and then should be destroyed. Let the dead poets make way for others.

Perhaps already I am dead, And these perhaps are phantoms vain; – These motley phantasies that pass At night through my disordered brain. Perhaps with ancient heathen shapes, Old faded gods, this brain is full; Who, for their most unholy rites, Have chosen a dead poet’s skull.

The experience on that movie (Dead Poets Society) was, for lack of a better term, life-altering. Peter Weir has a unique talent for making movies that are intelligent but also mainstream. I’ve never been terribly successful at doing that.

Ignore reality, there’s nothing you can do about it.

Screamin’ ‘Carpe Diem!’ until I’m a Dead Poet.

I always thought the idea of education was to learn to think for yourself.

Written poetry is worth reading once, and then should be destroyed. Let the dead poets make way for others. Then we might even come to see that it is our veneration for what has already been created, however beautiful and valid it may be, that petrifies us.

I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life.

If you listen real close, you can hear them whisper their legacy to you. Go on, lean in. Listen, you hear it? Carpe diem, seize the day boys, make your lives extraordinary.

No matter what people tell you, words and ideas can change the world.

The question, O me! so sad, recurring – What good amid these, O me, O life? That you are here – that life exists and identity, that the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.

Seize the day. Because, believe it or not, each and every one of us in this room is one day going to stop breathing, turn cold, and die.