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Light from Many Lamps
A treasury of inspiration selected from the wisdom of the ages and presented in a fascinating new way.
- GenresSelf Help
324 pages, Hardcover
First published February 1, 1973
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Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews
November 3, 2010
One of the best compilations of the wisdom of the ages. An extraordinary book that is not only to be read, but be used.
December 2, 2011
very nice book...
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
February 3, 2026
Light from Many Lamps is not merely an anthology of quotations; it is a carefully curated treasury of human wisdom drawn from civilizations, scriptures, philosophies, literature, and lives across centuries. Edited with rare sensitivity by Lillian Eichler Watson, the book stands as a testament to the idea that “every generation enjoys the use of a vast hoard bequeathed to it by antiquity, and transmits that hoard, augmented by fresh acquisitions, to future ages.” The volume affirms that humanity is not spiritually impoverished; rather, it is heir to an immense inheritance of thought, courage, faith, and insight.
At the heart of the book lies the conviction that there are “gems of thought that are ageless and eternal.” Watson assembles voices from the Analects of Confucius, the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius, the Ethics of Aristotle, the Confessions of St. Augustine, the Dialogues of Plato, Cicero’s De Officiis, the Bhagavad Gita, the Upanishads, the Koran, the Talmud, and the Bible, alongside statesmen, poets, scientists, and ordinary observers of life. Together, they form a chorus of “thoughts that breathe and words that burn” words capable of easing the heart, lifting the spirit, and giving hope, faith, and consolation.
The book is unified by the understanding that “the men who have gone before us have taught us how to live and how to die.” In this sense, the reader is constantly reminded: we are the heirs of the ages. The anthology does not merely preserve wisdom; it hands it forward, urging readers to “give people something to cling to, something on which to build the strong, firm structure of their own lives.”
A major thematic current running through the book is happiness and inner life. Watson repeatedly emphasizes that happiness is not a matter of possession or status. As one recurring insight declares, “Most folks are about as happy as they make up their minds to be.” Happiness, the book insists, “comes from within,” and “true joy is serene.” It is not found in having or being, but in doing. If one lives only for oneself, the mind stagnates, becoming “bored to death with the repetition of (its) own views and interests.” Hence the urging: “Keep the currents moving. Don’t let your life stagnate.”
The anthology powerfully critiques maladjustment and hollow ambition, suggesting that many suffer not from lack, but from misdirected desire. The sick man longs for health, the poor man for wealth, the ambitious for power, the scholar for knowledge, and the overworked for rest yet real happiness eludes all who seek it externally. The pond, Watson reminds us, “is fed from within.” An empty mind seeks pleasure as a substitute for happiness; therefore, youth must “furnish the mind” with intellectual and artistic tastes this is the finest insurance against old age, loss, and physical decline.
Closely allied with happiness is courage, courage to rise above trials, to accept loss and defeat, to face illness, danger, and death. Life is portrayed as “a voyage that’s homeward bound,” demanding inner buttressing. Marcus Aurelius’ timeless image resonates deeply: “Man must be arched and buttressed from within, else the temple wavers to the dust.”
Equally central is faith, not as dogma but as sustaining force. Faith gives guidance, comfort, and peace; it leads safely through doubt, despair, sickness, sorrow, and temptation. The book’s religious selections hymns, psalms, and poems form some of its most luminous passages: Abide with me by Henry Francis Lyte, Newman’s Lead, Kindly Light (beloved by figures from Roosevelt to Gandhi), and the quiet certainties of Emily Dickinson and Browning. The repeated assurance echoes: though one may walk through “the valley of the shadow of death,” no coward soul is truly lost when faith endures.
Watson also elevates hope and social responsibility, drawing on statesmen such as Lincoln, Roosevelt, and Woodrow Wilson. Wilson’s metaphor of roots and flowers underscores the belief that renewal arises not from imposed power but from the deep moral soil of the people. Progress, as Charles F. Kettering affirms, is only beginning, and humanity must learn to visualize not merely a world at war, but a world at peace thinking globally, “as though on a giant chessboard,” toward cooperation and understanding.
Ultimately, Light from Many Lamps affirms that God governs the affairs of men, yet also that human courage, faith, and imagination shape destiny. “The only limit to our realization of tomorrow will be our doubts of today.” The book closes not with certainty, but with invitation, inviting readers to ask, seek, and knock; to walk boldly and wisely; to live content with small means, refined minds, and brave hearts.
In an age of noise and distraction, Light from Many Lamps remains profoundly relevant. It proves that sometimes words of rare inspirational value appear in unexpected places and when gathered with care, they illuminate the human journey with enduring light.
At the heart of the book lies the conviction that there are “gems of thought that are ageless and eternal.” Watson assembles voices from the Analects of Confucius, the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius, the Ethics of Aristotle, the Confessions of St. Augustine, the Dialogues of Plato, Cicero’s De Officiis, the Bhagavad Gita, the Upanishads, the Koran, the Talmud, and the Bible, alongside statesmen, poets, scientists, and ordinary observers of life. Together, they form a chorus of “thoughts that breathe and words that burn” words capable of easing the heart, lifting the spirit, and giving hope, faith, and consolation.
The book is unified by the understanding that “the men who have gone before us have taught us how to live and how to die.” In this sense, the reader is constantly reminded: we are the heirs of the ages. The anthology does not merely preserve wisdom; it hands it forward, urging readers to “give people something to cling to, something on which to build the strong, firm structure of their own lives.”
A major thematic current running through the book is happiness and inner life. Watson repeatedly emphasizes that happiness is not a matter of possession or status. As one recurring insight declares, “Most folks are about as happy as they make up their minds to be.” Happiness, the book insists, “comes from within,” and “true joy is serene.” It is not found in having or being, but in doing. If one lives only for oneself, the mind stagnates, becoming “bored to death with the repetition of (its) own views and interests.” Hence the urging: “Keep the currents moving. Don’t let your life stagnate.”
The anthology powerfully critiques maladjustment and hollow ambition, suggesting that many suffer not from lack, but from misdirected desire. The sick man longs for health, the poor man for wealth, the ambitious for power, the scholar for knowledge, and the overworked for rest yet real happiness eludes all who seek it externally. The pond, Watson reminds us, “is fed from within.” An empty mind seeks pleasure as a substitute for happiness; therefore, youth must “furnish the mind” with intellectual and artistic tastes this is the finest insurance against old age, loss, and physical decline.
Closely allied with happiness is courage, courage to rise above trials, to accept loss and defeat, to face illness, danger, and death. Life is portrayed as “a voyage that’s homeward bound,” demanding inner buttressing. Marcus Aurelius’ timeless image resonates deeply: “Man must be arched and buttressed from within, else the temple wavers to the dust.”
Equally central is faith, not as dogma but as sustaining force. Faith gives guidance, comfort, and peace; it leads safely through doubt, despair, sickness, sorrow, and temptation. The book’s religious selections hymns, psalms, and poems form some of its most luminous passages: Abide with me by Henry Francis Lyte, Newman’s Lead, Kindly Light (beloved by figures from Roosevelt to Gandhi), and the quiet certainties of Emily Dickinson and Browning. The repeated assurance echoes: though one may walk through “the valley of the shadow of death,” no coward soul is truly lost when faith endures.
Watson also elevates hope and social responsibility, drawing on statesmen such as Lincoln, Roosevelt, and Woodrow Wilson. Wilson’s metaphor of roots and flowers underscores the belief that renewal arises not from imposed power but from the deep moral soil of the people. Progress, as Charles F. Kettering affirms, is only beginning, and humanity must learn to visualize not merely a world at war, but a world at peace thinking globally, “as though on a giant chessboard,” toward cooperation and understanding.
Ultimately, Light from Many Lamps affirms that God governs the affairs of men, yet also that human courage, faith, and imagination shape destiny. “The only limit to our realization of tomorrow will be our doubts of today.” The book closes not with certainty, but with invitation, inviting readers to ask, seek, and knock; to walk boldly and wisely; to live content with small means, refined minds, and brave hearts.
In an age of noise and distraction, Light from Many Lamps remains profoundly relevant. It proves that sometimes words of rare inspirational value appear in unexpected places and when gathered with care, they illuminate the human journey with enduring light.
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September 1, 2020Zz
February 25, 2022
Profound and a valuable book with immense life lessons.
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews