ink
it is rather fine, too, this necessity for the tense bracing of the
will before anything worth doing can be done. I rather like it myself.
I feel it to be the chief thing that differentiates me from the cat by
the fire.

"Well," you say, "assume that I am braced for the battle. Assume that
I have carefully weighed and comprehended your ponderous remarks; how
do I begin?" Dear sir, you simply begin. There is no magic method of
beginning. If a man standing on the edge of a swimming-bath and
wanting to jump into the cold water should ask you, "How do I begin to
jump?" you would merely reply, "Just jump. Take hold of your nerves,
and jump."

As I have previously said, the chief beauty about the constant supply
of time is that you cannot waste it in advance. The next year, the
next day, the next hour are lying ready for you, as perfect, as
unspoilt, as if you had never wasted or misapplied a single moment in
all your career. Which fact is very gratifying and reassuring. You
can turn over a new leaf every hour if you choose. Therefore no object
is served in waiting till next week, or even until to-morrow. You may
fancy that the water will be warmer next week. It won't. It will be
colder.

But before you begin, let me murmur a few words of warning in your
private ear.

Let me principally warn you against your own ardour. Ardour in
well-doing is a misleading and a treacherous thing. It cries out
loudly for employment; you can't satisfy it at first; it wants more and
more; it is eager to move mountains and divert the course of rivers.
It isn't content till it perspires. And then, too often, when it feels
the perspiration on its brow, it wearies all of a sudden and dies,
without even putting itself to the trouble of saying, "I've had enough
of this."

Beware of undertaking too much at the start. Be content with quite a
little. Allow for accidents. Allow for human nature, especially your
own.

A failure or so, in itself, would not matter, if it did not incur a
loss of self-esteem and of self-confidence. But just as nothing
succeeds like success, so nothing fails like failure. Most people who
are ruined are ruined by attempting too much. Therefore, in setting
out on the immense enterprise of living fully and comfortably within
the narrow limits of twenty-four hours a day, let us avoid at any cost
the risk of an early failure. I will not agree that, in this business
at any rate, a glorious failure is