The most important day I remember in all my life is the one on which my teacher, Anne Mansfield Sullivan, came to me. I am filled with wonder when I consider the immeasurable contrasts between the two lives which it connects. It was the third of March, 1887, three months before I was seven years old.

The heresy of one age becomes the orthodoxy of the next.

The clatter of a changing world is not pleasant, and those who have enjoyed the comforts and protection of the old order may be shocked and unhappy when they behold the vigorous young builders of a new world sweeping away their time-honored antiquities.

What do I consider a teacher should be? One who breathes life into knowledge so that it takes new form in progress and civilization.

If I, deaf, blind, find life rich and interesting, how much more can you gain by the use of your five senses!

Blindness separates people from things; deafness separates people from people.

It is for us to pray not for tasks equal to our powers, but for powers equal to our tasks, to go forward with a great desire forever beating at the door of our hearts as we travel toward our distant goal.