Life & Wisdom Quote by Marianne Moore

Superior people, Moore suggests, know when to leave. The line lands like a compliment and a rebuke in the same breath: “superior” isn’t about pedigree so much as discipline, tact, and an almost athletic respect for other people’s time and space. It’s a social rule disguised as a moral one, which is exactly why it stings. Most of us have been trapped by the well-meaning guest who overstays, converting hospitality into obligation. Moore compresses that whole dynamic into seven words and lets the reader do the wincing.

The subtext is sharper than a simple ode to brevity. Long visits are not just inconvenient; they’re power plays. To linger is to presume you’re welcome indefinitely, to test boundaries without naming the test. Moore flips the usual etiquette script, where the host bears the burden of politeness, and places responsibility on the visitor: true refinement means making your presence easy to receive. There’s also a faint anti-sentimental jab at intimacy performed through duration, as if closeness can be measured in hours logged.

Context matters: Moore’s poetics prized precision, restraint, and the hard-earned right word. Her cultural moment prized “calling” and social ritual, especially among genteel circles where visits were structured performances. In that world, leaving at the right time isn’t coldness; it’s craft. The wit of the line is that it reads like advice, but it’s really a definition of character: superiority as the ability to exit before affection curdles into fatigue.