You all know that a diamond is pure carbon, actually deposited sunlight-and he said another thing I would not forget: he declared that a diamond is the last and highest of God's mineral creations, as a woman is the last and highest of God's animal creations. Said the old priest, "A diamond is a congealed drop of sunlight." If this internal melted mass burst out and cooled very quickly it became granite that which cooled less quickly became silver and less quickly, gold and after gold, diamonds were made. Then the internal flames burst through the cooling crust and threw up the mountains and made the hills and the valleys of this wonderful world of ours. He said that this world was once a mere bank of fog, which is scientifically true, and he said that the Almighty thrust his finger into the bank of fog and then began slowly to move his finger around and gradually to increase the speed of his finger until at last he whirled that bank of fog into a solid ball of fire, and it went rolling through the universe, burning its way through other cosmic banks of fog, until it condensed the moisture without, and fell in floods of rain upon the heated surface and cooled the outward crust. One day there visited this old farmer one of those ancient Buddhist priests, and he sat down by Al Hafed's fire and told that old farmer how this world of ours was made. He was a contented and wealthy man-contented because he was wealthy, and wealthy because he was contented. He said that Al Hafed owned a very large farm with orchards, grain fields and gardens. He said there once lived not far from the River Indus an ancient Persian by the name of Al Hafed. Said he, "I will tell you a story now which I reserve for my particular friends!" So then, counting myself a particular friend, I listened, and I have always been glad I did. But, although I am not a woman, I did look, and the instant I turned my eyes upon that worthy guide he was off again. The gesture I did not understand and I did not dare look at him for fear I should become the victim of another story. I remember that toward evening he took his Turkish cap off his head and swung it around in the air. He told me so many stories that I grew tired of his telling them and I refused to listen-looked away whenever he commenced that made the guide quite angry. He was well acquainted with the land, but he was one of those guides who love to entertain their patrons he was like a barber that tells you many stories in order to keep your mind off the scratching and the scraping.
We hired a guide at Bagdad to show us Persepolis, Nineveh and Babylon, and the ancient countries of Assyria as far as the Arabian Gulf. I could not find anything better to illustrate my thought than a story I have told over and over again, and which is now found in books in nearly every library. The "Acres of Diamonds" which I have mentioned through so many years are to be found in this city, and you are to find them. But this had no work on it-thrown together perfectly at random, spoken offhand without any special preparation, and it succeeds when the thing we study, work over, adjust to a plan, is an entire failure. I have sometimes studied for a year upon a lecture and made careful research, and then presented the lecture just once-never delivered it again. Indeed, this lecture has become a study in psychology it often breaks all rules of oratory, departs from the precepts of rhetoric, and yet remains the most popular of any lecture I have delivered in the fifty-seven years of my public life. I am astonished that so many people should care to hear this story over again.
This is Russell Conwell's famous "Acres of Diamonds" speech-and the inspiration for the university's mission.
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