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Quote by George Washington Carver

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George Washington Carver: In His Own Words

George Washington Carver: In His Own Words is a compilation of the personal correspondence and published works of the renowned agricultural scientist and botanist. The book provides a comprehensive look into Carver's thoughts and experiences, highlighting his contributions to the fields of agriculture and botany. It includes his correspondence with fellow scientists, his speeches, and his essays, offering readers a glimpse into his intellectual journey and his dedication to improving the quality of life through scientific advancements. more

Author

George Washington Carver
George Washington Carver

George Washington Carver was a renowned American scientist known for his work in plant research and agricultural improvement. Born into a slave family in Missouri, he rose to become a prominent agricultural chemist and inventor. Carver's research focused on the utilization of peanuts, soybeans, and other crops, and his contributions had a profound impact on American agriculture. more

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“I never thought before, that there was a woman in the world who could affect me so much by saying so little. But don't be hard in your construction of me. You don't know what my state of mind towards you is. You don't know how you haunt and bewilder me. You don't know how the cursed carelessness that is over-officious in helping me at every other turning of my life WON'T help me here. You have struck it dead, I think, and I sometimes wish you had struck me dead along with it.”

“Westley and I are joined by the bond of love and you cannot track that, not with a thousand bloodhounds, and you cannot break it, not with a thousand swords.”

“I love all things, not because they are passionate or sweet-smelling but because, I don't know, because this ocean is yours, and mine: these buttons and wheels and little forgotten treasures, fans upon whose feathers love has scattered its blossoms, glasses, knives and scissors -- all bear the trace of someone's fingers on their handle or surface, the trace of a distant hand lost in the depths of forgetfulness.”