Commencement Ceremony Quotes

A graduation ceremony is an event where the commencement speaker tells thousands of students dressed in identical caps and gowns that "individuality" is the key to success.

I was never educated to be an actor. I went to a regular college. It was a great thing for me because I feel that the main thing to get out of college is a thirst for knowledge. College should teach you how to be curious. Most people think that college is the end of education, but it isn't. The ceremony of giving you the diploma is called commencement. And that means you are fit to commence learning because you have learned how to learn.

Yale students were the first American students to organize a boycott against British-made goods, and when Hale was entering, the graduating class voted almost unanimously to appear “wholly dressed in the manufactures of our own country” at their commencement ceremony.

From the very beginnings of Islam, the search for knowledge has been central to our cultures. I think of the words of Hazrat Ali ibn Abi Talib, the first hereditary Imam of the Shia Muslims, and the last of the four rightly-guided Caliphs after the passing away of the Prophet (may peace be upon him). In his teachings, Hazrat Ali emphasized that ‘No honour is like knowledge.’ And then he added that ‘No belief is like modesty and patience, no attainment is like humility, no power is like forbearance, and no support is more reliable than consultation.’ “Notice that the virtues endorsed by Hazrat Ali are qualities which subordinate the self and emphasize others - modesty, patience, humility, forbearance and consultation. What he thus is telling us is that we find knowledge best by admitting first what it is we do not know, and by opening our minds to what others can teach us.” — The Aga Khan IV at the Commencement Ceremony of the American University in Cairo, 25 June 2006

The next day commenced as before, getting up and dressing by rushlight; but this morning we were obliged to dispense with the ceremony of washing; the water in the pitchers was frozen.  A change had taken place in the weather the preceding evening, and a keen north-east wind, whistling through the crevices of our bedroom windows all night long, had made us shiver in our beds, and turned the contents of the ewers to ice.

imagine? The not knowing?” I moaned. My lower lip quivered uncontrollably. “Hey! A little respect here,” Dad whispered harshly to the ladies behind us. He stood, shuffling past Mom and me, bumping our knees, and then sat, bookending me between himself and Mom. He pulled me into his side, becoming my shelter against the whispered gossip and curious stares. The organ blared as the funeral ceremony commenced. Everyone surged to their feet. I rose slowly, my entire body feeling achy and aged, and gripped the pew in front of me to keep from collapsing back into my seat. All heads turned to the rear of the church, where the pallbearers

She blew a warm breeze on his face and rustled his hair and embraced him in a warm haze and he felt her nonthreatening presence. She looked down and saw his face stained with tears, nobody could reach him in his grief but she could. He saw her and blew her a kiss goodbye. She flew down in a haze in a white dress with wings and whispered into his ear “please don’t cry I am in a better place. Marriage was forever. Love and life was forever. My body died but my soul lives on for eternity”. (Katie) “The rain stopped suddenly and the grey sky cleared into a bright blue colour and a glowing warm orange sun appeared to show her appreciation. A perfect blue sky remained on the dark winter’s day until after the ceremony and the hailstone and rain commenced again and the dark sky reappeared as the funeral car drove away

A woman plays three roles in her life story, First is as a daughter, sleeping gaily in her father’s arms, She is a glory for her parents, always abiding their instructions, Her mother’s teaching is a grace for her in childhood, And her father’s guidance is her strength. And then the second is as a betrothed, This stage might start with a slight skirmish with her parents, But it doesn’t last long as a holy ceremony is near to come, Then she becomes the love of her lover, She wears voguish dresses; they dance and sing merrily, Both go out in search of nature’s beauty and devour it, She carries her duty towards her lover selflessly, But mere dominance makes her angry, Thus both should remain congruent with mutual affection and understanding, This results her in another stage of life. At long last she commence her third part of life, It is of a mother, full of spirit and value, She gives birth to a child, which is a blessing for her, She up brings them with care and nurture, She wants her child to follow virtues and morality, She becomes sad when they grow up and leave, But her love remains the same, Children might forget their mother, but mother never forgets them, Thus she creates runs and ends the world.

Achievement ceremonies are revealing about the need of the powerful to punish women through beauty, since the tension of having to repress alarm at female achievement is unusually formalized in them. Beauty myth insults tend to be blurted out at them like death jokes at a funeral. Memories of these achievement ceremonies are supposed to last like Polaroid snapshots that gel into permanent colors, souvenirs to keep of a hard race run; but for girls and young women, the myth keeps those colors always liquid so that, with a word, they can be smeared into the uniform shades of mud. At my college graduation, the commencement speaker, Dick Cavett—who had been a “brother” of the university president in an allmale secret society—was confronted by two thousand young female Yale graduates in mortarboards and academic gowns, and offered them this story: When he was at Yale there were no women. The women went to Vassar. There, they had nude photographs taken in gym class to check their posture. Some of the photos ended up in the pornography black market in New Haven. The punch line: The photos found no buyers. Whether or not the slur was deliberate, it was still effective: We may have been Elis but we would still not make pornography worth his buying. Today, three thousand men of the class of 1984 are sure they are graduates of that university, remembering commencement as they are meant to: proudly. But many of the two thousand women, when they can think of that day at all, recall the feelings of the powerless: exclusion and shame and impotent, complicit silence. We could not make a scene, as it was our parents’ great day for which they had traveled long distances; neither could they, out of the same concern for us. Beauty pornography makes an eating disease seem inevitable, even desirable, if a young woman is to consider herself sexual and valuable: Robin Lakoff and Raquel Scherr in Face Value found in 1984 that “among college women, ‘modern’ definitions of beauty—health, energy, self-confidence”—prevailed. “The bad news” is that they all had “only one overriding concern: the shape and weight of their bodies. They all wanted to lose 5–25 pounds, even though most [were] not remotely overweight. They went into great detail about every flaw in their anatomies, and told of the great disgust they felt every time they looked in the mirror.” The “great disgust” they feel comes from learning the rigid conventions of beauty pornography before they learn their own sexual value; in such an atmosphere, eating diseases make perfect sense.

The groundbreaking ceremony and construction of the Pentagon commenced on September 11, 1941.

This time, the pathologist had a morgue assistant, a tall, skinny guy with glasses like airplane windows and a nimbus of brown hair, triple the height of Lyle Lovett's, and with a wave that rivaled the Banzai Pipeline. The hair probably had its own intelligence. It probably had its own Netflix account. It probably received regular invitations to speak at Ivy League commencement ceremonies. It probably contained a netherworld where monsters had houses.

Whether in skirt-chasing or basketball, Mason always craved a win. Perhaps too much. Mason had recently retired from the NBA when his second son, Antoine, graduated from junior high. After the commencement ceremony, Antoine challenged his old man to a one-on-one game to 11 points. Antoine made up for his height disadvantage by hitting several jumpers from outside to start, taking a 5–0 lead. Then Anthony buckled down, came back, and took a 10–9 edge. Antoine got past his father with a crossover dribble and raced in for a layup that would have tied the score. But just before he could finish the play, the elder Mason—at least seven inches taller and 80 pounds heavier than Antoine—flew into the frame and clotheslined his adolescent son in the throat. “As I’m laying on the ground, holding my throat and coughing, he grabs the ball, lays it in, and says, ‘Game.’ And then walks in the house,” he says. Other family members, there to celebrate Antoine’s graduation, looked on in stunned horror. It simply wasn’t in Anthony Mason’s nature to let anyone walk away with a win at his expense.

The organ blared as the funeral ceremony commenced. Everyone surged to their feet. I rose slowly, my entire body feeling achy and aged, and gripped the pew in front of me to keep from collapsing back into my seat. All heads turned to the rear of the church, where the pallbearers hoisted James’s casket onto their shoulders. As I watched them process behind the priest, I couldn’t help thinking they carried more than James’s remains, his body too decomposed for an open casket. Our hopes and dreams, the future we had road-mapped, also rode on their shoulders. James’s plan to open an art gallery downtown after he quit the family business. My dream to start my own restaurant when my parents retired from theirs. The little boy I imagined standing between James and me, his small hands linked with ours. Everything