Willpower

THE AYT
ILL-P ER
By
HENRY HAZLITT
Author of "Thinking as a Science"
-
"The streng/,Iz of your life is 112casured by the strength of
you.r will.u-HENRY VAN DYKE.
NEW YORI{.
E. P" DUTTON & COMPANY
681 FIFTH AVENUE
f--------'..--- ___
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
TIIINKING AS A SCIENCE
~ ' ] \ f . r .. Hazlitt'g stlggestions, hints and prescrip-
tions for efficient thinking are so sound, so lucid and
so convincing that we might wish for their universal
dissemination. If they were generally accepted
and practised, we should have something lik:e an
intellectual revolution.-"The Tribune (Ne\v York).
"Altogether a valuable book for both student
and layman, helpful, provocative of t11inking."-
The LivingAge.
((Helpful in developing the power of concentration
and in showing meJ:hods of reasoning."-The New
York Evening Post.
"The book should increase anyone's ability to
think clearly, logically and to th.e point.. "-Phila-
delphia Telegraph.
Ee P. DUTTON & COMPANY
Copyright 1922
By Ee P. DUTTON & C O ~ 1 P A N Y
All Rights Reserved
.Pri.1'ited in the United States of America
CHAPTER
CONTENTS
PAGE
I A REVELATION CIt . e $ .0. .. e I
II THE INTELLECT AS A VALET
III THE PRICE ONE PAYS

e .. ..
..
IV OLD BOTTLES FOR THE EW WINE ..
;.,
V RESOLUTIONS MADE AND RESOLUTIONS
20
KEPT.

.. ..
3
2
VI SUCCESS AND THE CAPITAL S
........
VII THE SCALE OF VALUES
VIII CONTROLLING ONE'S THOUGHTS III
IX THE OrvINIPRESENCE OF I-I... 0
X THE ALTERATION OF HABIT
XI WILL AND THE PSYCHOANALYSTS
10
55
XII
CONCENTltATION,." .., 0." "., "., . 'e'
XIII A PROGRAM OF WORK .. 120
XIV THE DAIL1:"" CHALLENGE
., . . ,"
CIt 1.27. , ..".,"--;--
XV AND THIRD WINDS
XVI MORAL COURi-\.GE
a ..
. ..
.. 136
153
;,
. -- ""U",-,.",,_--..Jo>
THE WAY TO \VILL-POWER
I
A REVELATION
Y
au have seel1 the advertisements. Tl-le lion
and the man are facing eacl1 other; the man
upstanding, hands clenched, his look defiant and
terrible; the lion crouching. \Vllowill win? The
man, \vithout doubt.. He lias \iVhat the beast lacks,
Vvill-Povver.
And at the bottom of tIle page is the tr'ialigular
clipping wl1.icl1. you cut out and sel1d for tIle book
on how to acql1ire it.
Or perhaps the advertisernel1.t promises you a
$10,000 a year position. Notl1.ing less than $10,000
a )7ear seems capable of attracting the present-day
reader of twenty-cellt n1.agazines. And thoseposi-
tions, one learns, are reserved for the men of "\lVill-
Power (not forgetting the capitals).
The advertisen1.ents betray bizarre ideas about
the will al1d will-power. Anyone who has tl'1e
remotest notion of psychology might be led frorrl
thern to suspect the advertised course" Btlt the
~
2 THE W Y TO WILL-PO\iVER
advertisements reflect not alone'. tl1.e
ideas, but the ideas of the' plain man. They are
'\vrittel1. to catch the plain man's eye, and tl'ley do
catcll his eye, else how aCCOU11.t for tl1eir persistence,
their enlargeluent, arId their multiplication, notwith-
standing the notorious expensiveness 0' adver-
tisil'lg?
Now I alII about to reveal a profound secret
about the will. The revelation will cause a good
deal of shock and disappointment and a bedlartl of
p,rotest.. However, I derive courage to meet the
protest because I have an imposing body of psy-
chologic opinion behil1.d me. I have behind me
lTIOst of tIle reputable psychologic opinion sitlCe
Herbert Spencer. And so llere it is:
The will does not exist.
I repeat it, lest you fancy there has beel1 a mis-
l)ril1.t. There is 11.0 stich thing as tl1e "viII.. Nor
sucl1. a thing as \;yill-po\ver. These merely con-
vel1.iel1t words.
Now vvhen a man denies existence ()t the will
he is 011. dangerous ground. I t is as if he were to
deny the existence of the tomato. Yet I do deny
that the will exists, in anythil1g like tIle san1e sense
tl1.at tIle tonlato exists. The tomato is a definite
THE \VAY TO WILL-POWER 3
entity. You can pick it up, l1andle it, feel it, or
throw it at the person "Vvho denies its existel1.Ce"
.t.t\.nd this' evidence of reality may convince hill'}. But
I am not so crude 110r so fatuous as to deny the
existence of the will SilUply because you Cal1.not
feel it or taste- it. I cIa not deny it simply because
it is not material and tangible. I deny it because it
is not even spiritual. The plain man's conception
of the will is utterly and grotesquely wrong, and
he trust be shaken from it violently.
T'he popular co,nception Se'el1.1S to be that the
Creator, having decided tl'1at a man might Wal1.t to
have a brain to use upon occasion, bethought Him-
self about the ingredients, and dropped in first a
memory, then an imagination, then a will, and t11en
a power to reason.. Though popular conception is
vague on the cletails, it is probable that the last was
a sn1.all parcel, \vrap,ped in prejudices to protect it
from strain.
But tI1,e Creator could have left out the' will, and
no bne 'would l'lave been the vviser. Proof of it is
that so few of us \vere. It was only recently that
psychologists began to suspect its absence..
You are making a gesture of impatience. "This
is a little too stiff," you say. "Tl1ere is a limit
to which )'TOU call ilupose on tIle. r knovv when a
4 THE WAY TO WILL-POVV"ER
mall shows a vviII, and \Vllen lie doesn't.. I l'1ave
n1et strong-\villed mel1., and I l1ave met \veak-willed
tuen, and I lcno\tv the difference, when I see it."
For your remonstrance I have the greatest
respect. And I will now proceed to give heed to ito
II
THE INTELLECT AS A VALET
H
A VIl'JG given some hint of what the will is
'. . not, it is 11.0vv n1.Y pleasant duty to tell what it
is. This may best be done by illustration.
You resol-orve to abolish late nights. Tvvo nights
out a week vviII be your limit. No night out later
tl1all mi.dnight. It doesn't pay. A man loses sleep.
He l1.urts his healtl'1. He isn't as fresl1. as 4e ought
to be for\vorlco He is just frittering his time
avvay, and getting nowhere, al1.d not ilnprovil1.g
11.irl1Self evenil1.gs, and it's expel1sive, and--
So you resolve to cut it out. With a free- con-
science you Inal<e your two el1.gagements for tI1.e
cOlning "\veek. About Monday noon Jones drops
aroul1.d at tile office. There is a little game of
poker towarcl SOlne night tl1at week when tl1.ey
can get the crowd together. N ow poker is marvel-
ously fascinating. Yau haven't seen the boys for
a long time. Al1.d yott l1ate to lie to Jones, al1d
tell l'1inl all your nights are' occupied, for such a
5
little reaS011. l-\nd you are ashamed to tell hin1.
t11e trutl1.. Th.at )i'"Otl have resolved to go out only
two nights a "\veek, come what may, n1igl1.t strike
Jol1.eS as deliciously funny.. He might tell the
boys, wI1D also have a sense of l1.umor. And there
is the possibilit)r tI1.at Jones .might 'be offended.
SO )TOU look straigl1t before yOl1, l111decided for a
ITlinute or tVlO, or you make feeble excuses (riot
you.r real ones) "\rvhicll are easily overridden by
Jones., and )70U end by thil1king to yourself that
you will not COU11.t this week, or that you will make
up for it tll.e ..veek after And your dis-
honor is complete.
Let us ana.l)TZe trlis degrading incident. is
a bundle of desires. He desires this, and tl1,at, r
al1.d else again. P.1..n.d th.e world is so
constituted that., in n.early every one
.,r
l
, 'j.... .....
desire cannot l)e attained save at the" sacr-ifi:;' of
J"
sonle other. This provol<:ing state of affairs was
l011,g ago cr)Tstallized ill the pl1.rase tllat you cannot
eat your cake al1d have it to,o. IVlore broadly", it
may be expressecl in the pl1rase that everything
'\ve desire has its price'.. The price of a cake is
a dollar; the of keeping your dollar is the
loss of a cal(e.
This illllnlinating truth does not stop at tIle
6 THE \\1AY TO WILL-POVV-ER
THE WAY TO WILL-POvVER 7
grossly material things, at the tl1ings whose prices
can be' l11easured in n1oney. It extends th.rough-
out the spiritual universe. TI1.e IJrice of earnil1.g
$2 extra 'a day trlay be 'iVorkil1.g an extra hour a
day; which rnay be conceived eitl1er as tIle pain
of an extra hour's or as tl"le loss of an hour's
leisure.' Conversely,the price of an hOtlr's e)ctra
leisure a day is $2 a day.
"Y{e are now COmil1.g to grips "vith our actual
case. The price of staying out late at rl.ight is
sleep,il healt?-, efficiency at business, mOlley, self-
improvement. That is, tl'1ese are the things. that
the man must pay, lose, sclcrifice, in order that he
may stay out late at night. Con'lersely, the price
of sleep, health, efficiency at business, money,
self-improvement, is the pleasure of stctyin.g Otlt
late at night that one gives Lip.
yVe have ta.ken a devious course to arrive at
our conclusioil, yet we mtlst deviate a little further
before we COlne back. We must COl1side'r the
Intellect. For centuries ,lYe have glorified the
intellect; "\rve have put wreaths UpOl1. its head and
sung its praises.. . Which V\Tas quite absurd. For
is a helpless, powerless sort of
. thing, a mer'e .. a subordinate,
....-........ ....,t;IJ:
\vhich the desires boss arou)J:d. It does the bidding
'> -' . .._ .....
"""'.""'y.""7".
'"
8 THE WAY TO WILL-POWER
of the desire that shouts the loudest. YOtt may
Jj call. this a libel on the intellect. Yau perhaps
.", ... I
..,J';": )...k:tvrhail1.tain the traditional view that the intellect
j.. '"- 1;,1>
/" jff directs the desires.
<"", I
J} "--.4 ref.lect,._You engage daily in more or less

your desire for bread and soup and cafe parfait,
. ._..,,--_.__.. ..-'
for an overcat, all apartrryent, ancl theatres and
golf, thal __ there. / You may protest that
" ._-._-.--.._....-......
you enjoy your 'worl<:. I shall not gainsay you..
111. either case, it ;lre ..dictatillg....
" ... " .. ... ..... _.-
,_ yQllr_.,.. -:I"f-'it is
a good intellect, its owner tnay count himself for-
tunate. It will be better able to carry otlt the
orders of its bosses, the desires; it will satisfy
them more, and it "viII satisfy more of them.
The intellect n1.ay, and often does, pick the road
to a given place; the desires always dictate the
designation. To multiply figures, the intellect is
the steering gear, the desires are the el1gine; tl1.e
intellect is the pilot, the desires are tIle breeze..
We are now ready to return to our imrnediate
subject. "Vhen a luan is engaged ill vvllat "\ve call
ll1.aking a decision, the intellect Ina)Tbe thought
to occupy a place of greater dignity. It may be
imaged as acting as a' judge bet\iVeen conflicting
THE VIAY TO WILL-POWER 9
desires. But the position of tlle intellect is itl.
reality one of profound 11.1.1nliliation. In deciding
bet\veen desires, it' is actually tryil1.g to mal<:e UI)
its Inin.d \vhich desire is the stronger. It feels
th.eir mllscles, so to speak. And it Obe)TS the
desire with the hardest biceps.
N OV\l every decision is not merely a selection
from among clesires. One desire may be so O""iler-
_ .._ ..... --....',-004r...._..._._. __..... _..__"<'._._,. :........... ..-" .... ..... '.
.. .. .... ,.. .. i!..; they
.. ...,---"..-... _....
merely brushed out of the way_ The fl1nction
-......,... _...... .. ......_---......,._-- ---""--.
of the intellect, then, in ilialCln-g-'--'a:- decision, is to'
select from alternative courses the one vv-rl'1ich
most pron1ises to fulfill this stlpreme desiret
I can fancy your rebelling at this point, if, in
fact, yOLl have not done so long ago,. "What you
say may be all very true abOtlt some people," I
can hear. you saying, "but suppose: I refuse to'
allow Iny intellect to be bullied arourld in this
shameless manner? Suppose I choose to have my
intellect snap its fingers at all my desires, and say
'Hereafter I will be master?' What becomes of
all YOllr fine analysis then ?",
This question, my, dear sir, is not so formidable
as it loolcs.\i\That it would amount to, if YOtt
succeeded in carrying Ollt your magnificent defiance,
or rather, if YOtl succeeded in thinking you had,
10 THE \\lAY TO WILL-POWER
vvould be that your desire (note the word) yottr
desire to have )Tour intellect Inaster "Vvould over-
come otller desires or impulses, recognized lJy your
intellect as such, whicl'1 arose tral1siel1tly from
to monlent. Y 011 v'vould act only on the
desires V\Thich your il1tellect happened to approve
of; but tl1at is nlerely another way of saying t]1.at
Yo1..tr desire to act on t11e principles of COlnmon
sense had overcome all other clesires.
__ma.E1s. There is nothingifi1moral in desires
per se.. There are good desires as well as evil.
Tl1.ere are spiritual clesires as vvell as material.
Tllere are to- help others, to spread. cheer-
---- "
fll1ness, to protect qne's health, to live in lTIodera-
tion, to feel satisfiec!",zwitll one's lot, to "succeed"
......
in Ii fe, to go to ..
virJ.1Je_.. _gives. i\nd these desires may be just as
.
powerful as selfish desires, or as a cravil1g for tran-
sient sensual pleasures. Bernard Shaw' says. some-
\i\There that real goodness is nothing but the self-
iriclulgence of a good lnan.
lJnfortul1ately, the_... take!l by it-
...w..... -- -.
'; self, lIas come in pOP1.-11ar us,age to l1ave a restricted,
{"./7a -Po-puTIir---ti:sage has
perverted it 11-"1'51: perverted the ,,,vard
"pleasure;" "Vvhich arouses SL1Ch endless confusio.n
THE 'l\TA Y TO WILI-J-POV\TER 11
of tliought in ethical argumel1.t.. I verily believe
tIL.at could a man be brought to think of tIle word
"clesire" al\vays in its true al1.d broadest Ineaning,
l1.is aversion to the truth that tIle desires over-lord
.. .-----.. . .... - - " ..... "4
..l1.tellect Vvould be corl1pletely reI1.l-DVed.

For as a fact, I have greatly t1rlderstated the pre-
clominance of the desires as con1.pared \vith tIle
, ...",
irltellect. The very existel1.Ce of the intellect depends' :'
.. ..' ........- .. ", . - ,.'.. i?
upon tIle desires. Ul1.1ess a luan 11. ave' desires, lie IC

v\Ti 11 , ha ..-irltcllect. 0 rra
""'i!""'"----- ... ........ ..... ,.- ........ ... ......
develop .. 1.-1Se it, which -18'-' riiuch' the
.... -...t'_-:"' __":"--"'... ..........
same thing. Tl'lii11<lng is problem solvil1.g. It
arises from th\varted ptlrposes..
desires, \ve can have no p",:!!-poses, and hellce notl1-
.......--...
ing to Tl1.inking may arise as all attempt
to solve son1.etlling bearil1.g on our il1.1.mediate per-
sonal \velfare, or 011. tIle \velfare of our fan1.ily or
our city,. or-..... JJ11 .... _tlle_:v\!elfare ... Qf... mallkind;_._.it .. may
arise from the love' of prestige and applause or
f rorll sheer iIltellectual curiosity. Ill. al1.Y case,
desire of some kind is tIle force..
.LL\. great difficult)r yet remail1.s. You may adnlit
tIl.at tl1.e intellect is a servant and not a n1aster.
But not that it is the servant of your desires. "It
is the servarlt of NIe," )7'OU say. "It is tIle servant
of r;/[y Vlill." These are tvVO distinct, p,erhaps
contradictory, assertions. Let us consider the first.
N ow let me ask. W.hat are your Yau are noth-
ing but a total. Take away your body, take away
your physical brain, take away your intellect, your
desires, your memory, your imagination, take away,
I say, all the parts and attributes of you, and there
is nothing left. Tl1.at should be obvious, so obvious
that '1 almost blush to state it. \Vhenever you
speak of 1\tIe, or I, or You, you are' speaking now
of one part or attribute of yourself, now of another.
You say, cel intend to do so-and-so,"-meaning
that a certail1. desire within you is going to make the
rest of :.you do so-and-so. You say, (;(1 am run-
ning,"-n1eal1.ing that your legs are rurtning, carry-
ing the rest of your body and yotlr brain along
witl1. them. You say, ~ ( I an1. thil1.king,"-meaning
that your intellect is thinkil1.g. Your knees aren't
tl1.inking; your feet aren't thinking; your teeth'
aren't thinl<:ing. Only your intellect. In any case,
when you refer to I" you are referring now to one
part of yourself, now to al1.other; and yet, such
is the confusion of tl10Ught, that because you giv.e
the same nan1.e now to one part and now to anotl1er,
you fancy tl1at the '\lord "1)) refers to somethirlg
distinct fron'1 any of these, somethjl1.g in addition,
sonlethil1g separable from the parts that compose it.

-1.-.-.
THE WAY TO WILL-POWER 13
But when you are talking of (( in the fore-
going sense, you are usually referring to your Will,
arid it is this conception tl1.at we lTItlst 11.0W consider..
The .. is a receptacle
full of conflicting desires. (All desires. are not
ever-present, but that is 110ta point we need con-
sider novv.) For certain periods-it may be only
for a n1.ornent, perhaps for a day, for.
half a desirewl11 ".}
for ;
vvill determine action. For as long as it .. ,... _,._._
T 0.-
determines action, that desire constitutes,
)Tot.lr will. ) is vlhat you desire to do, what you
l\tvant to do, what you will to do..
But one desire may predominate for one hour,
and the' next. Just now you nlay wish
to $it home for the evening and improve' your mind.
That is YOltr will. After rea.ding tl1is a few
minutes you may become bored (I am not blaming
you), and may decide to call up your friends and
play bridge for the evening.. That is also your
. ",rill.
And here we come to the great confusion. These
desires, \vhich are constantly gaining individual
supretnacy and losing it, which are constantly over-
throvving and dethroning other like presidents
14 THE WAY TO WlI-iL-POWER
in a A.o.-meriGan repulJlic, are each of tl1.el11
Inere temporary "; Yet we give
...-.._..... ...._."'flF.' ....". ,. "" .c- .", .,._- ' ..- .-...-.c ...e.---"""i.
a pern1anent l1.ame to tl1.etTI. \lVe call one desire
the \viII, and ,ve call the desire the 'Vvill. And
so we think that the \;viII is sOl1.1.etlLing in addition
to these separate desires. If vve were to say that
vVarren G.. Hardil1.g kissed Mrs. Harding, and then
were to adcl that the Presiclent of the United States
also kissecl 1\1:rs. Harding, the confusion between
vvordsand thil1gS be obvious. The Presidetlt
of the United States "\ve know to be only another
flame for I-Iarding. It is n1erely a permanent nan1e
for the temporary liolders of that po,\\ier-
flll office, all of different natures. So with the
tnind.. (Tlle. will is merelY a l1.ame for the clesire
"'il.' , _., __ " " '" , __
.. ...!?,... Take.ay\Tay
all desires, and there remains no will.. )
-- .-.... ' ...
t ,
\; ,
,
l
III
I CAN fancy that. you. are becoming. somewhat
weary. "What IS the sense of thIs fellow's
always harping 011. the saine thing," you may say..
"I-Iere lIe has been going on for two chapters with
his 'precious analysis, repeating himself, insisting,
en1.phasizing, underestimating my intelligence, 'and
after I l1.ave his point, and he l1.as niade himself
clear, l1e keeps on talking. I picl{:ed up his bool-(
under tl1.e impression that it migl1.t help me to
acquire more will-power, and here he is trying to
jar11 a psychological treatise down lny tllroat."
Now' I adn1.it the Seemil1.g justice of tl1.is. But
my point is vital. Before' we: can acqtlire \vil1-
power, vve niust fi1"'sto all lcno\v "\vhat "\ve are talk-
ing about.. Ananlazing amount of cant and non-
sense is written abo.ut the vvil1. I have seerl a book
on 'ViII-Power so thick' and formidable that the
chairs creaked vVhel1. you put it lIpan then1, and it
was vitiated and full of absurdities from tIle first
15
page to the last, sin1ply because the author l1ad not
the remotest conception of what the will is. Occa-
sionally there \vas a little sense', because occasionally
the writer caught glimpses 6f the truth, as a man
must ill so many pages. But we cannot afford to
catch ol1.ly glimpses. We must know what we are
talking about all the time, not merely in moments
of absent-mirldedness. 1vfy point, I repeat, is vital.
I am takil1.g no risks \vith it.
Having approached a true conception of' the will,
,ve are prepared to go a step fartl1er, and to find
what we Inean by t11e pl1.rase "Will-Povver." This
is not difficult. It resolves itself into a question
.. of time. (When we say a man has will-power, we
mean that lie has a certain desire 'whicll
!.. t for a comparatively
is 110t beil-1g constantly dethroned
. other desires. Either the otl1.er desires are not
strong enough, or it is too strong for tl'lem (whicl'1,
. as vie shall see later, is more tl1an a mere verb:al
distinction); and if perchance this desire is forced
to 'abdicate for a little while, which may sometinles
happen with the strongest-willed persons, it quiekly
throws out the usurping desire' and reigns again.
... This dominant __}tyjsh for some-
.. n'larl who .a-beys
.,.,......_.... ..,-

t'he expected advantage of tlle future against tI-Ie
supposed advantages of the preSel1.t. lIe ,viii not
eat an extra slice' of that delicious pie, for he kno\.vs
that if he did he would two hours later be suffer-
ing the agonies of indigestiofl. He will not gaze
at that pretty girl on the sub,vay seat opposite, for
he has embarked upon the' noble enterprise of in1.-
proving his mind; he l1.as set aside his trip to
work in the mornings for concentration on sonle
_.. J.:1!e .. Or he
will stay late at the office; he wTIi- 'tak-e'" his work
home with him; he will whip his brain on wIlen
it is tired; l1e will shorten l1.is holidays, eliminate
social enjoyments al1d endanger his health, for he
has resolved upon Success in Life.
_ ;Will-Power, then, may be defined as the ability
to keep re11zote desire in ... ...",. that /
i11;tn1Jedia-te desires which
\ . ." /""
gratified:!
Understand lue, I pass no ITloral judglnent 011.
the will jJer se. I do not condelnn it, neither do I
praise. It may be evil as w'ell as good. A man
may devote years to avenging himself upon al1.other.
Hen1ay put up with incol1veniences; endure priva-
tion; submit to insults, humiliation, and risl<s of
exposure', all of vvhicl1. he' could avoid if he would
:J'
18 THE WAY rEO WILL-POWER
COllsent to give up l1.is ainl. l'Jal)oleOl1 cOl1secrated
l-"lis colossal will to tI1.e once glorious al1d no\v dis-
c.redited occupation of trying to conquer the
But will does. imp!)! thought of the future.
It is ready, if l1eed be, to sacrifice tIle present to
the future. Al1.d that is one of tI1.e great dis-
.;tinguishil1.g 11.1arks betvveen the civilized n1.an and
I
the savage. The savage did 110t sav"'e; he did 110t
:'1 plant crops; lie did not provide for old age. He
oJ, did not even set aside food for the next day. When
1
./ l1e g-ot a piece of 11.1eat, he gorged l-limself, tl11til
.: . {e "
he slept.
. A firmer g:rasp the .true idea of "viII-power
is attainable if Olle isacquail1ted vlith some of the
distinctions of political Tl1.e econolnist
differel1tiates bet"'ween ('desire" al1d "den1.and.. "
tI'le laymall talks of tIle dem.al1d for a.uto-
lTIobiles, 11.e tllinks usually of tl1.e desire for aut()-
nl0bileso The econol11.ist will not tolerate such
looseness. A beggar tllay genuinely desire a Rolls-
Royce car, bt-1t tllat does not concern tIle manu-
facturer. It does l1.otconstitute part of the den1a.nd
that the manufactt.lrer must SLlpply.. He is inter-
ested GIlly in tIle folk \i\TII0 call afford to pay for
Rolls-Royce cars. A.nd it is not only essential
th.at the people ,;VI10 catl afford a Rolls-Royce s11al1
\.
TI-IE vVAY TO WILL-POWER 19
desire it, but must desire it so tllQ.t tlzey
are will'l1!g to pay price for it.
OvV v\ie are ready to apply tl1.is eCOnOl11.ic cle.firti....
tion to tl1.e "viII. After nil1.eteen pages of theory,
exegesis and preparation, we are a.bIe to lay down
tIle first rule for the aspirant for V\Till-power. It is
a very important rule, and, indeed, possibly' covers
most or the subject:
you rnake any farInal resol11tiol1 vvhat-
soever, make certain that you genUil1.ely desire to
carry it 01Jt. I_et tl1ere be no doubt that the end
yotl have ill view is so desirable or '\
that it will outweigh all desires or
all otl1er ends tllat are likely to have to be fore-
gone or abandoned in order to attain it. 1111 short,
be sure you are 7)illi1zg to pay the price.)
This rule is the corner-stone. Its importance
will become more and lnore appreciated as we go on.
IV
OLD BOTTLES FOR TI-IE NEW WINE
H
. .A VING made myself satisfactorily clear, I
am now disposed to become more amiable
and conciliatory.. I-Iaving demolished (I hope)
popular misconceptions of the will and the intellect
by gunpowder charges of the truth, and having
erected a nevv edifice in place of the old, vague,
and misleading one', I am willing to add a few
bricks from the old building. In short, I am pre-
pared to make concessions. It is probably quite
wise and 11elpful to do this, because it catlSes less
confusion and less irritation to tal1{:, wherever
possible, in terms of established co'nceptions than
in terms of conceptions to which the reader is
unaccustomed. This is all the more to be desired
when the old conception has some partial justifica-
tion, and vvhen, though loosely lumping different
things under one name', it none the less, by so doing,
effects an economy of thought and of language.
I have said, for instance, that there is no such
20
THE WAY TO vVILL-POWER 21
thing as the will considered as an entity, that it is
simply 2: nalne we give first to Qne desire and thel1
to anotl1er. But by way of setting off those desires
which we cOlnn1.only call "the will" from those
desires which "the \viII" opposes, I l1ave said tl1.at
the will, in general, represents desires for remote,
as opposed to imtnediate, gratifications. Yet vve
n'1ay generalize still further.. As long as we lceep
ill. the bacl-cground of our nlinds that tILe ""viII is
really an abstraction, there is no hart1.! itl speaking
of it a good part of the tinle' as if it vvere an
entity; and insofar as it can. be said to represent
a definite and pern1.anent entity, (the will n1.ay be \.
\./
!defined as. O'Urr desire to be a certal'z, sort of lA\
I I'
clzara;ctere ..iThis is still a desire, yOl1 see, and it i
9
/ '\
still an abstractiol1; for our desire to be a certain
sort of cllaracter tnay nleal1 at 011.e InOlnent a desire
to be hOllest, at anotl1.er mOlnent a desire l1.0t to get'
(lrunk, al1d at still anotller 11.10mel1t a desire to C011-
centrate on son1ething.
\;Vhen \ve cOll1monly speal<: of tlle will, and think
of it as if it were a definite concrete thing, it is this
desire to be a certain sort of character, I tl1.il1.1(,
tllat we COfl1.illOnly l1.ave in n1.inda "\Vhen popular
language says tl1.at a ITlan is the slave of l1.is desires,
it means tllat he acts u.pon the cravings and impulses
that 1'"011.1 time to tin1e arise, t?ough it1. retrospect
lIe "\\rill kl1.0"'\V- tl1.at such actions vvould ne"'ver be dOl1.e
by the' kind of character he wants. to be. [VVll.en
popular langt-lage says that a mall is the lnaster
of his O\ivn desires, tIlat tie holds tl1.em in leash
and under his control, it n1.eal1.S that this desire to
.. ........... -a.....:..-,. ....:.. _._._... ......._.'d"_"__"' __ .. __..
a chq,rq,cter all
_. ... ,. o.J'Q"
al1d po,verftl1 !:lpgP. it'!:.... P!'efer:
'.- -... - .-
el1.Ce to al1.Y other fleeting or recurrent desire "'.:hat
........ - ........-_._" .-'.. .....,..... __ . . .._ ... ". __.oo<l._ ..H:Z:.. . 7"t'V2
!l2
a
y ,
And it is, on ,the'whole, ratl1.er vveli t11at l)opular
language has this conception ltubedded in it.. For
actions and decisiol1.S 'vvliich wOLl1d otherwise seem
trivial are n1.ade by it to seen1. large and sig!lificant..
It Inay 11.0t seetTI a matter of ilnportal1ce Wfletl1.er
you tal<:e tllis particular dril1k or 110t, or "V\Tl1ether
you cheat tll.e out of tl1is particular
five-cel1t piece. But if you look upon the non-
perforn1.ance of this little act as your ability to
refuse to )Tield to a particular impulse, al1d if your
ability to refuse to yield to this partiC1.11ar impl.11se
becomes in your mind a 'to and a test of
e1
1
'ttire Jl"OU l1.ave tl1rOW11 itltO tl1e scale
a migrlt),T force to ensure YOllT tal<:ing the rigl'lt
action.
If vve accept the definition 0 f 'Tv-ill as' the desire
THE TO WII..IL-POWER 23
to. be a certain l;::ind of character, then it can be
seen to be a matter of tI1.e highest ilTIportance just
"\'\That kind of character you desire to be.. A inal1.
l11ay have a strong ,viII but low ideals, or he may
l1ave high ideals al1.d a weclk will. \A 111an--ougl1t--
_." "''''''''"'''--'--.....,_....._._....... ---..........
to m.ake two demands of ideals:
second that they be 111S".,o\ivn... )
__, I ...,;..1- ..... .. ''''' _..-- ..
if a man really and truly desires to 'be"-a rO{le
a picl<pocket, if this be his ideal, and if his conduct
conforu1s absolutely with his principles, there is
assuredly rIO fault to be founel with his vvill. He'
n1ay firmly put aside all distractions and C011.-quer
e""very good al1.d l1.oble temptation, in order to be a
piclzpocl(et or a roue. But society asks sOlnething
fl1.0re of him tl1an strength of will. It asks that
.... .. ::--..
11.i._ be sqc.:i9-1!y beneficial. Al'ld ellen more
__.'-'''''' __.........._.............. ....,.. ,.._. ....... ....__ ... t
rna}' be required. It may be asked that a Inan put
his ideals so l1igh that it is difficl11t to reach tIlem..
Browning has expressed it, "A man's reach
s110uld exceed l1.is grasp, or 'what's a heaven for ?"
A_ man with lenient and unexactil1.g ideals may be
a tolerable character; l1.e can never .be a great .one>
The demand tl1at a man's ideals should be his
0\7\T11 is one more difficult to comply vvith. It Ineans
he rnust not accept his moral canorlS and standards
unquestioningly from the community.. It Ineans
24 THE WAY TO \iVILL-POWER
that lIe tnust not be afraid of "not doing what
everybody else does" or of "doil1g vv11at nobody
else does,," It means that lIe n1ust not be a mere
mimic or a sheep. He must thinl< for l1ilTISelf. I-Ie
must examine' for himself the grounds of rigl1t
and 'wrong, not let the pril1.ciples upon \vllicll
his life is conducted be laid down for him merely
by other people's opinions. He must 110t be afraid
.. _.-....... ..-......'.-- ....."., .....
of criticisn1 if he feels in his ovvn l1.eart that he is
_._-_..........- ..- ._..... __... _---"........-.....-.._----_..._..... _-....... ..-..._,-..._.... .... _-- .._.....-_-...
right. This is an exacting ideal. It requires the
e-; ..f.-:,_. _.,"..... ,. . _.-......- ... ...._.,-_.- .-." ...--...... - ._ .. .. .. - e: .- ... .
moral courage;:
.... .,-_.
A man ,:vho lives. up to tI1.is be-..a
.. ;re not nO"\iV.gis-
cussing ethics, per se
J
but only will-power. Be is
character, He may
,.- _..., -. . .'. -.'"'' -_oo#--_ .. ---'" .._ __.__'_ ',
bea Tolstoy or a Nietzscl1e or a Eugene Debs; but
_"", -." .. Jl'lI$4 .;._...--t---.-._ _ _.'-"'" - -_ _ -.. .....-_ ,_,,'_,_,,_, .. ." .. . ....
.. ... u!?-to hims.elf. __
ideas mistaken", and mistaken they may-"
' _. __ """' .. ..---__ _....-, __...- .. -- ..-_.--..- .. _ .,,,,._ ._ _"'-""._
but adlnire the strength of character
" ..:.-..-_"' __ . ....4._ ,._"_.. .......- __..-oy.o -.... __.,._. . , -" _.- '_'.0--._0. ,,_. or ." "'"., _.- .. _, "
to act them out in spite of social
'I' ,.. --_."l';-_ "_ __., ,"'._.. I:"l.,..
opposition. I f the strel1gth be' son'letimes Inis-
..,.., _ .. ... ,
directed, tllat is unfortunate; but the imp,ortant
thing, from our present standpoint, is whether it
is there.
This reference to "the strong character/' recalls
a pronouncement by John Stuart Mill in l1is essay
TI-IE' WAY TO 'NILL-PO\i\TER 25
L
-b (&1 " h "b' ,
011. 1 erty_ t IS not, e says, ecause mell S
clesires are strong tl1.at they act ill; it is bec3..use
t11eir consciences are vveak."
This aphorism must first be anaiyzed in ternlS
of our l1.e\V conception of the \vill. .i\ man's "con-
science" is simply tllat group of desires 'to act
socially, usefully, morally, conventiol1.al1y, to secure
tIle good opinion of his fellow mel1., or not to fall
in his o,vn estimation, not to offend or to give
anger or sorrow to his' God, or it n-iay represent
his desire to forvvard al1.Y otl1.er more ultimate end,
to vvhich the gratification of tI1.e imn1.ediate impulse
or desire would be opposed..
If the belief tl1.at IVlill is contradicting \:vith his
dictum is a half--trt.ttl1, so, too, is 11is o\vn state-
ment. It is not the "conscience" in' itself, nor the
"evil" desires in themselves, tl1.at ultimately c 9 u ~ ~ _ ;
it is the relatiol1. of the one' to tIle other. //The
stronger his desires, t11e stronger his conscience,
or counter-desires, must be; the \veaker his desires,.
the less need he has for a strong conscience.
(But we usually, and 'rightly, regard the man \i';lith
the stronger COl1.science' as the stronger and n'lore
admirable character_ W eadnlire far nlore the marl
who has a violent craving for drink, but neverthe-
less fights it down, than ,rye do the man \VI10 refrail1s
26 THE W i\Y TO \VILL-POWER
from drinking, btlt has no great liking for it any-
V\Tay-. ') Tl1.eir outward action ITlay. be tIle sanie, so
far its effect on themselves or society is con-
cerned; but our untrained ancl tl11S0pllisticated
judgn1ents are right in attaching the importarlce
tl1ey do to the in\\Tard struggle. For the \\Teak f11an
\vI1.o refrains froin drinking may not refrail1 fron'!
otller actions just as personally or socially injurious
that he lIas a greater desire for; vvherea:s the man
v\Tith th.e stronger conscience, who has been able to
fi.ght this desire in this case', may be clepended upon
to figlit lesser desires more
We all kl10\:V the habit that InarlY ll1.otl1.ers ha\le
of holding up some little mollycoddle as a n1.odel
to their boy: "You never see Clarel1.Ce do tl1.at I"
And we sympathize with the "!joy's contempt: "Ah,
Iti'11z! He could11/ t be bad 1" ( A man WIlD is good
fron1. docility, a.nd not froni self-control, has
no character.)
this distinction, al1.d in the passage
following the of his I have q1.1oted, states
po\verful1y ... :1:11.<:: case for the Ulan with stronger
itTIoulses :t'There is no natural cOl1.nection betvveen
..L.
strong in1.pulses and a vveak consciel1ce. The
natural cOl1.nection is the otlIer v\tay.. To say that
one perS[)l1.' S clesires al1.d feelings are stronger and
THE \1\lAY TO WILL-PO'VER 27
more "\iat'ious tllatl tl1.ose of another, is merely to
say that he lIas more of tIle raY\T tnaterial of ll.unlan
l1ature, and is therefore capable, perhaps of more'
,.._.. ... _ .""..... ..
ev"'il, but certain12r of nlore goo-d.. Strong impulses
. . - '. ---_......... -........_----,..
are but another name for energy. Energy may be
turned to bad uses; but more good may always be
Inade of an el1.ergetic natLlre, thatl of an il1.dolent
al1.dimpassive Ol1.e.. Those vvho l1.ave most natural
feeling, are alv'vays tl10se \vl1ose CL11ti'lated feelings
l11ay be made- tIle strOl1.gest. T'he sat11.e strong sus-
ceptibilities whicl1 make the personal inlpulses vivid
and pO'\verful are also the source frorn 'Vhel1.Ce are
generated .. love of virt1-1e, and
> , _' ... _ _ ....,...., ,.;. ".,-.,. ....._, , ... ,,__ , .....,'...' . " _.'
the sternest self-collt.rol,'?
, .. ...... tr....... :.r." ..... ,... ...,
I began this cl1al)tet4 vvith 011e concessiol1 to tI1.e
older al1.d lTIOre l1abitual vvayof lookil1g at tl1.ings,
and I slla!1 end it \vitll al1.otl1er. TIle first h.ad to
do witll tl1.e\iVill, and tllis has to do "\viti1. the intel-
lect. I l1.ave said tllat the irltellect is a 111.ere valet
to the desires, al1.d I have. made a good tTlany other
disparaging rel11arks about ite But I can fancy that
you were left not only UI1C011.vinced, but CJ..ngry. I
can fancy sOlneone' S' said" while readin.g
those rel11arks of l11ine: "My clesires are detertuitled
by my intellect. A marl's desires are not the desires
of a I desile to read S11akespeat'e and
SCl1.0pel1.hauer; I actually prefer it' to spending my
evel1.il1gs in a poolroom or \vitl1. some pretty felnale
tIling. Has not my intellect formed illy desires?
Has not it dictated them? What sort of flapdoodle
are )TOU tryin.g to tell 111e ?"
Now before sucl1. an assault I al11. hUlnble, ancl
retreat with a magnanimous gesture. <' fit is strictly
true that tI1.e desires and the intellect cannot be
separateci.. They il1.teract. Our desires may orig-
inally cleterlnine the direction of our il1tellectuaJ
interests, but onc.e our il1.tellectual il1.terests ha've
tal<:el'1 a certail1 turn, t11ey may a---\(\.,"'"aken l1ew' desires,
and abandon old ones.'} . of Nietzsche
may cl1.ange a .11.1. a.11. , s ideal's and ..".
- ". ,,' .... : .... " ' .." :;:'"'!'=':: ;... . 1"-';;"1'" ......,..q..' .. s;.,
,..f,Qf.. .. Jife.. .. turn into a
.... " ,. _ ,_:. 0;. ,,'W;.- .;".\;,',. ; ..11, >''''':'''" .,> , .'.;. ,;,. '. , ', ..-.:.., :+-.'. ..'
.. for .. _..
We' l1.ave defil1.ed vvill as tIle desire to become a
certain sort of cllaracter.. '/v"'e llave Seel1. that, at
critical filoments, \vhen tIle craving to do a certain
tl1.ing threatel1.S, like a great tidal \vave, to s\veep
us helpless before' it, it is this desire to become a
certain sort of character "V\Thich throws its \veight
in the scale \vitil the otl1.er "lveaker clesires to balance
us; it is tl1is desire \Vllic.l1 stal1.cis like a rock to
cling to 1111.til tIle torrent l1as spent its force. It,
THE WAY TO vVILL-PO\VER 29
too, may be sVJept a'way at times. But it is,
'lye knovv that it has 110t been strong el1.ough.. It is
a vvarl1.ing that the breakwater has been too low
and too '\Teak. We must build it higher and
stronger.. .. JJ1JJst_.$trel1gtl1en this desire to be...
, ' , .... .. ..:..;. '. " I',' ,
come a certain sort of character.
:,:. ,_" '':01.-'':' ,"-",C:" ":;;;:.l' ,:.',J,C_'(;:, " "\"',c--,,' '. - ,,, _; .;./,l;. ',.t:- ! '\.I
The ideal that we actually form vvill depel1d tlpOn
our parents, our religion, our associates, our read-
il1.g, our thinl<:ing, tIle traditions of tl1.e nation and
tIle age in \Vl1ich vve live. Many of tl1.ese elements
are intellectual, and to the extent that these deter-
mine Otlr ideals
J
they determine part of our desires.
Btlt even l1ere we cannot say that the- intellect
creates our desires. Rather, it transfOr1']/1'S them..
They exist congenitally in the forn1. of ra\v mate-
rials; or more strictly, tlley exist as a country's
"natural resources" exist, waiting to be worked up
by our environment and our intellect
. .
into the finished product. Prac-
IS. '!'Ii I",I"'.-
tically all men are bOT11. witll. the sexual instinct..
But though this particular instinct, in its ravv state,
may be preSel1.t in equal degrees in three' men,
envirorlment; training and intellect may so shape
this ra\v material that the first man may elect to
marry and lead a normal sexual life, the second
may launch, forth as a an.d the third may enter
30 THE \7VA"<;:i" TO vVILL-POWER
and abide by the VO\VS of the priesthood. Silnilarly,
tIle figh1.-
and to also, through environment
'<:::$0. m

of football or a philosophical controversy. ) It is
r. Ie:: -= 'Q ...""._...,"",,"--_ 1t
the saIne with gr gariOl.1SneSS, or any other instinct.
These are the materials; the' desires the finished
products.
But thoue-n the irltellect can control the finished
<...:)
product, it cannot control tIle raw materials" One
cannot lose' an il1.borl1. instiI).ct by tl1.inking; one
cannot create one by thinl<:il1g. In this respect the
intellect bears the same relation to the instincts as
man bears to matter. He can transform it, beautify
give it value, ttlrn it to his purp'oses; but he
cannot create it and he cannot destroy it.
And, if we are to, consider this qttestion in a truly'
philosophic, not to say a metaphysical manner, I
may as well confess right here that in talking of
('desires" and "the intellect" I have' been doing a
somevvhat dubio,us thing" Perhaps the more philo-
sophic vie\v is that at times the whole man clesires,
and at times he thinks; but the one process is never
entirely absent from the other. vVhen I deal with:
tIlis process, I deal "\tvith it rattler crudely, rna.king
abstractions? treating abstractions as el1tities, hypo-
statizing them, making verbs into nouns. A 11'1an
desires something, and I speak of "the desires";
he thinks something, and I speak of "the intellect."
In doing this, I am merely following COnl1TIOn
usage; and, indeed, the conceptions imbedded in
our very lal1.guage practically compel me to adopt
this usage if I am to prevent myself from. beCOlTI-
ing utterly obscure and tral1.scendental. As this is
supposed to be a practical manual, 11.0t a philosophic
treatise, there will be no harm in contit1uing to
talk in terms of these common conceptions. But I
enter this qualification to ward off irrelevant attacks.
I s11al1 try to change tl1.e common conceptions 0'
the nature arId relations of "the' will" and "the
intellect" only insofar' as I think, it needful to,
change tl1en1. for practical purposes.
And no"\v, having presel1.ted my apologies and ,con-
cessions, . we Call. have done with tllis everlasting
theorizing, alid ~ o m e to pr;;tctical cases.
RESOLUTIONS MADE AND RESOLUTIONS KEPT
T HE trouble with the average man is not that he
neglects to tnake resolutions. The trouble is
that he makes far too many resoltttions. Makil1g
resolutions is sometilnes his principal daily occu-
pation. He is forever forgetting or breaking
them, and that is why he has to make tllem all
.
over again.
You, 0 reader, l'1ave probably been through tl1.is
experiel'lCe, so often that you clislike to be ren'1inded
of it. It is probably your consciousness of past
eVel1.ts that has tempted you to read this bool<:.
N O\V there is sonletl1.il1g to be said for you. Yau
realize your imperfections.. Yau are splendidly
dissatisfied witl'! your prese11t habits, your present
nlode of livin'g, your present statio11. in life. You'
say to yourself, "This will never do." You see
things as they would be if you could get up earlier
. ill. the tTIorning, if yOLl could break t11at absurd
llabit of setting your alarm clock for seven, getting
32
up, shutting it off, gOil1g back to bed witI1. the-
honest intention of taking just a five minutes'
snooze, and not vvaking up ul1.til quarter to eigl1.t.
Ridiculous as it is, the l1.abit repeats itself morn-
ing after morning. YOll jtlmp with a start; you
have a wild 11otion that tI1.e alarnl clock has. played
a trick on you; you dress ill six minutes, shave in
four, bolt your breakfast, make some' excited, irri-
tated, unkind remarks to your wife, start for the
station or tl1.e street car like a luan in a walking
race, break into a rUfl; cttrse tl1.e line waiting for
tickets, and when YOlt are finally aboard your
train, 'which trudges alOl1.g and loiters around
stations as if all eternity vJ"ere before it, you say to
yourself, "This will never do."
In that ride 011 tIle train to yottr office, you see
things as they lnig11t be. Y au see yoursel f getting
tlP at seven, dressil1g at your leisure, eating break-
fast ill. all expansive mood; no friction; no irrita-
tion; no squabbles with friend \vife; no dreadful
fear tllat you are gOil1.g to n1.iss your train, or tllat
somebody will look first at you, at the clock, and
tl1.en at you as you corne in the office.. In tl1.at ride
on tIle- train you have glimpsed perfection. Al1d
yOtl make a trenlendous resolution. "This tl1.ing-
has been going 011 long enol-1gh.. It's preposterous.
34 . THE WAY TO WILL-POWER
It l1as got to stop. T01TIOrrOW I will get up at
SeVe11.."
ArId wl1at happens? Well, you arrive at
office al1d there are a nUlnber of things to occupy
attel1.tion; yC?,ur out
of milld. fones. (my chief illustrative standby'O':.::7_.';".<6."'-"'".,',.-
\\Tarlders in ?nd suggests his little game of poker
that night. It is conceivable that you are not
asllalned to protest, and that yOll indicate your ne"v
desire to keep early hours.. Jones assures you it
"\von't be lon.g; just a hand or t\vo. You go. Yau
arrive hOl1:1e at 1 :30, ha"'"ving l1ad, in the main, an
evening not too sttlpid, but il1.Wardly grumbling
tl1at you got back so late, or that somehow you
couldn't ha\Tespent five' hours at Jones's house- and
still have arrived hOllie two l1.ours after you left
l'1ome. Y au go to bed; you sleep . . . The alarlll
rings. SeVel1. o'clock! You get up, a.utomatically,
in a daze, angry al1d resentful against the alarn1.
that you )Tourself l1.ave set. Yau. sl1.ut it off. You
turn back toward the bed, like a marionette, with-
out consciousness of a decision or of any thought
\vl1.atever; you retrace your steps; you are about
to get into bed again; a vague recollection of yes-
terday's resolution ( and perhaps also it is tIle
resolution of the da,y before yesterday and of the
day before that) flits uneasil)'" across YOtlr lnil1-d.
But yott are sleepy; sleep is il1dispensable; the
trol1ble yesterday \vas 110t that ,vent back to
bed, bl1t that )lOU overslept \iVl1el1. you got there;
just a rninute snooze . . . You awake. Ten
minutes to eight! Impossible! And in the midst
of your five-luinute dress, al1.d your three-and-a-
half n1.il1.ute shave, and your bolted breakfast, you
still have a CartIer of your n1ind tllat is reflecting
on' what an ass yot-t have been, and a
that this must be stoI)ped. And so on,
as one day fol1o\i\TS another.
Tl1.e exal1.1.ple is chose11. at ral1.dom. It is not an
extreme example.. It is liot the n1.0st po'\verful I
could have selected. But it suffices to illustrate
illy point. TIle trouble is tIlat everl in your
... c ' .-.
on .... f
Vil1.Ced yourself that YC)"Ll really wal1ted to get up /
the .. alarm
ill the morning, on your "\vay to ;\;(work, you have
been thinking only of one side of the case; and
at seven o'clock the next n"lOrnil1.g you have been
thil1.king only of the other side.
Understand me, I am rIot saying that it would
be to your advantage to make that resol,re on the
trail1... I do not contend that it vvould be better to
36 THE WAY TO WILL... POV/ER
get up at seven and take your tit11e tl1.atl to get up
at Cltlarter to eight and hurry. You are tI1.e judge
of tllat. I disclaitTI any moral attitude whatever.
But I insist that if you do make a resolve it should
be carried out. ... . an. ...;
tiQ;t1.cThis
and b,real<:)tjs4c;tJI9J:'"alizing.'1 Though not a single
other S0111 on earth Sh0111d kl10W it, though God
hilTISelf shoulcl not knovv, yOtl would know it.
You vvotlId have to cOl1fess your failure to your-
self. To break a resolve is to undermine your
self-respect. To break a resolve is to lose faith
yourself., It shakes your confidence that you can
any other. The next time )iOU become 'sud-
denly disgusted \vith a.ny action or l1abit, and you
clench Y01..1r teeth and your left fist, and are just
a.bOtlt to drive your left fist il1tO the Opel1. palm of
Y01J.r right, and say to yourself, "The next tilne
1-" you are apt to stop short and think of your
previous failure, and the bitter irony 'of it all may
rush over you. Y au start at the very beginning
,vith an unwl1.o1esome doubt of whether you are
going to keep your resolve. And self-
.. .. s_elf-faith., .. ?re,.... ,.nothing ..
worth vvhile. But witl'! every resolution kept, be
it never so snlall a resoltttion, your faitl1 in your-
..............- .,.... " .....!".. , .' ",,'<." .. "",.,.,,, . - -', - . .....",,,.,,,,,,,
sel f grq TIle ",cJ:,esQlutiQ,n
.. Will-power COlnes

into its inheritance.
The 0 f"a.11 tllis is tl1at vall should make
f
resolutiol1 is the resolutiorl n1ade in a mOlnent of
!Jassion and self-disgust. It is well that you
s110uld have suel1. mOmel1.ts. It is of such mon'1ents
that great achieven1.ents are born. But before you
make a resolve tl1at you seriously mean to execute,
look at it coldly and completely. Think not alone
of the bene'fits of keeping it, but of the disad-
vantages.. I f you have been lying in bed until
quarter to eight, you not been doing so uI1.less
there were some advantages in lying in bed until
quarter to eight. Consider these adVal1.tages in the
mon1ent of your resolve. Do 110t pass them over
in 'contempt. Weigh them at tl1.eir full v'alue..
lVfeasure the sacrifice of forsaking tl1el11. Balal1.Ce
it against the advantages of getting up' promptly
.at SeVel1.. You may decide that getting up promptly
at seven is 11.0t wort!l its price. YOtl n1ay decide
to conlpromise on half past seve1l, vvhich would
allo"\iV Y01..1 half an hOl.lr'S more sleep al1.d a little
1110re tinle to dress.. Upon \vhat you decide it is
not for me to comlnent" But yoztr deci-?on
38 THE WAY TO, WILL-POWER
be carried out. No DJ.ore den1.oralizil1.g course
could be conceived daily to resolve to arise
at seven and the next day always to wait until a
qua.rter to eight. Such a course comes only be-
cause, vvhen you l1.1.ake your resolves, you do not
fairly face tIle price.
This rule is so itTIportant, and l'1as so wide a
bearing, tl1.at vve cannot forsake it here. It applies
to all our resolves. Let me illustrate wit11- .the
exalTlple that has become tIle favorite with all
\vriters 011. will. I refer to The lavv-
makers insist 01'1 solving this particular will-prob-
len'} for us, but tl'1e Constitutional Atnendtnent, so
far as I am a\vare, puts no ban on its invaluable
, ' use as a litera,ry e)cample. I cannot be
arrestecl for pointing Oilt tl1.at tIle actual teml)tations
to drinking are 110t altogetller a thing of tIle past.
Y 011 have a drink; tl1.en a'nother. Perl1.aps you
l1.ave 011.e or two lnore, thougl1 the count becomes
rather confusing after a tilne. TIle liquor "toucl1.es
the spot," as you say, and for a time it produces
a mental and emotional reaction tllat is highly
delightful. But the next lTIOrl1il1.g your stol11.acl1. is
1..1pset; your food dOeSl1.'t taste right; you ha"'le a
headache; your Omental and pl1.ysical 11.10Vem,ents
are slo\v and listless; you get little work done;
the color of tl1e ul1.i"'verse is Yau are prob-
ably lninus a good dea1 of lTIOney. You feel your'
self-respect slippil1.g. YOtl a,re losil1.g the respect
of your friends. And your resolve tliat 111orrling,
accompanied vvith tI1.e usual terrible knittilig of
lJro'w and clencl'1irlg of fist and 0 f teeth (as if that
llelped) is tI1.at these occasioris of getting drel1ched,
lUUSt forever cease, end, terlninate.
Al1d tl1en what? That acute psycliologist,
William James, can tell you much better than I:
"I-low many exCtlses does the 4f\.luka,1:cl.".,find wl1e'n
each new ten1.ptatiOl'1 comes! It is. a ne\v brand of
liquor whicl1. the interests of intellectual cl.l1tL1re ill.
such matters oblige l1im to test; n1.oreover it is
is sitl t? it; also others
...
.. just to get-
s i sn' t drinlcin g, it
is becallse he. feels so cold; or it is Christtnas-day;
or it is a means of stimulating him to tnake a more
po\verful 'resolution in favor of abstin,ence than
any he has hitherto tnade; or it is just this once,
and one doesn't cOt-lnt, etc., etc.. , ad is,
in fact, anything yO'll like except bein,g a drltrtka,rd.
Tltat is the conception that "lNill not stay before
t11e poor soul's attention. Bllt if he once gets able
4,0 'rHE 'lV/-\.y'" TO \iVILL-POWER
to picl( out that way of conceiving froln all tIle
other possible "lNays of. COllcelvlng the various
?pportunities Wllich occur, if through thick. and
thin lIe holds to it that this is being a drunkard
and nothing else, l1.e is not likely to remain OI1e
long. 'l""'he effort by which he succeeds in keeping
the right 1ta111le unwaveringly present to his mil1d
proves to be his saving moral act."
J-\.nd how is he to get "able to pick out that way
of conceiving'" and hold to it? There is only one
"\vay. N at in tIle n"loment of temptation, but in
the moment of his resolve, on "tIle morning after,"
that is tIle tinle for hinl to summon all these
excuses before l1.im, to bring up every possible
excuse, to thil1.1( of every conceivable advantage
of dril1.king-, and tllen to ask himself whether tl1.ey
are pO'vverful enough to offset the conception of
l)eing a drunkard, or vvhether the .advantages of
drinking outvveigh its disadvantages. He must
gi\7e an honest answer then. I f he ignores tl1ese
excuses, on tIle ground that they are unworthy his
noble resolve, he will finel them dal1cing before l1is-
eyes in the' next moment of temptation; and not
having faced arid ansvvered them when lIe was in
tl1.e mood to face and ansvver theIn, he is not likely
to face them in that unhapp,y n10ment.
,VI
SUCCESS AND THE CAPITAL S
I
COME now to a question, always thought of
consequence, and growing year by year in the
prominence assigned to it, tlntil with some men it
has become the sole pursuit in life. The present
age is .obsessed with its importance in a singLtlar
degree. The American nation is obsessed with it
beyond all otl1.er nations.. Books are printed on it;
magazines are devoted to it; men learnedly discuss
its "secret.. '" I refer, as the reader has probably
divined, to the question of Success.
You observe that I spell it with tl'1e majuscule.
The meaning of t 11.e word t h t . . t ~ spelt is at G'nee
broader and narrower than that 0 f the ordinary
word. Broader, because it is taken to mean
success ill life. N arro\ver, because it has come
to imply a peculiar kil1d of stlccess. It means first
of all a material success. It is a synonym for
"getting on." ",,There you get to is thought of
more cOl1sequence than wh;lt you are. W orship-
41
42 THE \7VAY 'TO VvILJL... POWER
pers of Success liold it1. contempt tl1e lnan who is
capable of el1.joying life in and on $30
a week.. They measure happiness externally, not
internally; objectively, 11.0t Sonie (a
growing clan) gauge success directly in proportion
to the number of dollars on wl1.ich a man
income tax. Otl1.ers, . less narro\v, "\vould accord a
place to fame, wllicl1. is apparently conceived. llot
so l1.1.ucl1. as l1.a"\Ting tIle higlt estimation of one's
fellovvs, as it is havi!1g one's rlan1.e known arnong
a large nllrnber of them..
Novv implicitly or explicitly, tI1.is kind of ex-
trinsic success is tal<:en by the majority of perS011.S
as the measure of tIle il1.trinsic vvorth of a lnan.
tl1.at is wIlY so n'lallY of lIS p1.1rSUe it-not
for itself, not because vvre personally would give a
blackberry for it, not because it is il1.dispensable
to our inmost happiness, but SilTIply that we may
excite envy of others and SeelTI happy in tl1.eir
eyes. We a strange habit of estimating our
- -,- -"- . '. .... - r - ' . ..... 11"'" !- ..',"",;-..... , ,-';. ....- .. r; ...-:.':' ..
oVvn l1.appiness by what other persons thitik it is;
, " _ ,. "' . ? . ," :,-',' . .... .. .. '... ". ,-,' ,: .. -' ',., :-'
and their opinion is likely to be based 011. our
,lnaterial success, since they l1ave little else to go
by. We contintlall)r try to obtai!l the thil1gS that
the people around us want or profess to vvant,
rather than wl1at we Vvant ourselv-es, because vve
1."'HE vV'AY TO \VILL-POWER 43
l1.ave l1.eVer really tried to exalnine whether there
is al1.)T difference the t\iVO.. In trying to
..rr
fil1.d whetller \ve are hot or cold, we attach more ;1'
importance to a dubiOtlS tllern1.ometer than we dc;>'/
to our own feelings.) ..
Now tI1.is kind of success, "\vl1icl1. I l1.a\Te gone so
far out of Iny way to become sarcastic about, is
not canl-manly vvithout tIle possession of
one cl1.aracteristic, a characteristic of -farnlore' il11-
porta,nee il! tl1.is resp'ect than tl1.ri ft, intelligence,
industry or COIUmOl1. sense. 1;l1.a.t is
a passionate to succeed, a desire so strong
to a demand, and
that, in the strictly eco'nomic sense to vvhicll I
have before referred, means to p,ay'
tlze
Tl).e price is first of all Sil1.g1etleSs of purpose
and concentratl0n 0 .-c'ettorf:"';\'..:--:t"Ne'a:'rIS;:'''''''''arr''''o'f''"'us:.: \'at;!
should some day like
to be Presidetlt of tI1.e Ul1.ited States. But not all
of us l1.ave n1ade it a point to stucly t11e of
art''
of us l1.ave takeri a'" tllat special
end. Not all of us have refused telnpting com-
mercial opportu,rlities for certain povert)T al1.d
struggle fora tillie, to gain an el1.d- in which the
mathematical chances \vere ridiculously clnd over-
/ whelmingly us. Nat all qf us l1ave kept
desperately fal1.ning tlle en'lbers of dissatisfaction,
fanl1.ing thelTI into a constal1.t white hot flalTIe,.
:'/vith nlost of t1S the early tIle en1.bers
f , ;W'e hig
... ,_...... . "..........
"\ve,-"ever seriously l1.ope to reach. e have spasms
of dissatisfaction vvith our position in the \orld,
but not S11fficient dissatisfaction to n1.ake us work
our \vay out of the rut to a higher position. We
have 11:10ments of longirlg for the mOulitain tops,
but enough longing to make us willing to give
up somethil'lg for then1-. Strolling in the
is so n1.tlch 1110re
singleness of purpose sac-.
(
rltlces than mere irl\lllstry.
all".,pleasures tliaf iilterfefe'
quite innocel1t pleasures, sole
tl1.at they.. time'. /It involves lnal<ing one-
sel f narrOV\T; orie Cal1.11ot b,e .. in ...
lil1.e if one dissipates energies in ,a number
of activities-unless, ' of course, Ol1.e be' a' versatil;
.whose e:ilergies overflow) like Benjamin
Franklin, Leonardo da Vinci, or sucl1.
. ,",",;;, . .., ..- .,,,.'*"," ..
irlstal1.CeS are so 1'"?-re that they 11:1clY be ignoreda
,:".',j;!:,
Let tl1.ere b,e no mistali:e. I do not n1ean to
THE WAY TO VvILL-PO\iVER 45
discourage efforts to becolne a Success. I mean
merely to indicate that tl?-e goal has I Vvant
you merely to ask yourself whether 3TOU are \ivilling
to pay that price; to ask: yourself cal1didly ho\v .",t-

you want to go and 110W n1.uch you are
yistf .eta/hot"" ask''' ..y..

you make your Success resolutions, yottare lil(ely
to ask yourself later on. As yOLl see obstacles
and disappointments pile up, you are apt to begin
\vondering \vhetl1.er the g-anle is wort1-1 tIle candle,
whether the colors of the reality are as gorgeous
as '., () f!h
broken your early
rt:solution, with all tIle undern1ining of self-con-
fidence .'and f",ith in YOL1.r will which that involves.
VII
THE 'SC'ALE OF VALUES
IN spite of the disclaimer at the end of my last
chapter, I alTI sure to be accused, because ?f the
satiric remarks precedillg that disclaimer, of. dis-
paraging Aml)ition,and I may not only be
denounced for this, but I shall be told that of all
places in wl1.ich to disparage Ambition, a book pur-
porting to shovv the ',fvay to is the
strangest and lJiOst unforgivable. But I 11.astel1
again to assure the reader tl1.at ..
paraged Ambition. at all;,. I ... ,. hc.1.ye01.1.
1
y ..
I have
our ambitiol1.S are misdirected. We are vvor-
shipping false gods.. A l1.1.al1. in our day Wl10
laugl'1s at the idea of taking seriously Ze1.1S and.
Jupiter is 110t denounced as irreligious in fact,
he \vould probably be called irreligious if he
did take thelTI seriously. A time will come, I
prophecy, when a man who bows down before 01..1r
present pop'ular conceptions of success will be
denounced as lacl(ing i'n al1.1.bition..
46
But there is a liability to misunderstanding more
important than this. Many will derive the idea
from some of my past remarks that tl'1e only thing
I regard of in1portance is what a n1al1. actually does
and does not want, and that lam not concerned
with vlhat he to vvant.. This is a misinter-
pretation whicl1. cannot be allowed to pass.. I have
not and I call110t dwell at length upon vvhat our
ideals and aspiratiol1.S ought to be,; tllat is a subject
for ethics, and I am talkil"1g of will-power. But
for the sake of clarity, p'erhaps it were well that I
indicate my position on this point.
We have seen that every atnbition has its price,
and t11at, befo':re launcl1.ing yourself forrnal1y upon \
the attainment of any alubition, yOll must first of
all asI<: yourself 1vIlether it i's worth its price. But .,'
th,e value of .. "or tl1.e
sacrifice . .in, ....
, ,.... in"...:P'1.:U:
may be' ..;;,mind.. ;
t \ ...... ,., ,'"
An analogy m.ay make this clearer. Whether
or not :;rou decide to pay $100 for an overcoat,
depen.ds both upon the value you attach to tb.e
overcoat and the value you attach to the
The wortll 'you set upon the coat vvill depel1cl
vvhether you are vvitll011t all overcoat aJtogether,
48 THE WAY TO WILL-PO\VER
or whetl1er tl1.e one you have acquired six
years ago, or whetl1.er you just bought an over-
coat last week. The value you attach to the over-
coat will also depend lIpan whether you are
enamored with the style of it, or whether you laugh
at the style of it; and such things depend quite
as much upon your own tastes as they do upon the
overcoat.. The value you attach to the $100 will
depend upon whether you are earning $25 a week
or $2,500 a week.. {Finally, the value you attach
,:1 \. ..' ..." .:(,...':...._, j.:.'_.. ...' '.' "",' " '.' ,,:... '
to the $100 wilr d'epeiid'upbit
your values" gamut"'of
r...... I'l :: , .. d:- __ .. :.'.,
taste's" IiIce's' and dislikes;/ upon how many other
uses you can think of for the $100, upon whether
you attach more importance, say, to a $100 set of
books; upon how much importance you attach to
dress generally, and how much to money as a
\vhole. In short, the value of tangible' object,
unlike its \veight, ..
inhere ,the ..".i1,}, The
weight ofa long ton of coal will always be exactly
tll.e same as the weight of long ton of bricks; but
t11e value of a ton of coal will not always be $15,
either to you or to the community as a whole.
}Jow what applies to economic values .applies
with equal force to social and moral values ( and
THE WAY. TO vVILL-POWER 49
I am here speaking of these values as tlley are,
not according to any notions of wl"lat they OUgl1t
to be) . Tl1.ese, too, exi st not 0 bj ectively, in the
outward world, but il! vour own souL. When I
~ ,
advise you first to consider the price before setting
out after any ambition, the decision you take n1ay
still differ from that of your l1.eighbor V\lho takes
similar forethougl1.t.. Imagin_e two men, each able
to forsee perfectly all the consequences of his
actions, and eacl1. trying to decide whether to make
it his ambition to an1.ass a million dollars. The
first may enjoy ptltting fortl1. effort; he may relish
cau1.petition and strife; he may be satisfied vvith
a narrow and exclusive devotion to his bt.lsiness;
and the attainrnent of a tllillion dollars m,ay seem
to llim an attainnient glorious beyond all otller
attail1.ments. It is not difficult to see that such
a r.aan would go ahead vvith the struggle for this
obj.ect. But the second nlal1., equally farsighted,
may be by nature more indolel1.t, or, though pos-
sessed of equal energy, he may have a wider range
of interests; l1.e ma,y like pictures, music, litera-
ture, philosophy, travel or V\romen; the ambition
for a million doliars may seeln to him a ridiculous
and childish ambition; he may feel tl1at an income
of .$7,500 a year suffices for all his needs.. It is
SO THE WAY TO WILL-POWER
not difficult to see that for him the price attacl1ed
to amassing a million dollars would seem prohibi-
tive, al1d the end not vV"orth the gaining.
But we 1nust pass from this consideration of
ITlen do and do not want, to tl1.e questiol1 of
what tl1ey ought or ought not to vv-ant. Of tVllO .
men, thf.it TI1.an \yh.Q .. ha.s"... t11e_... .. \Vl10...
' .................." '""""'1--'"" .. ; ., ....:, . _, ,.,. ,' .-
is prepared to malse .. ..,
"be admitted to .. ... .. ,..yvJll-p()"\ver but he
'\is not ;ldn1i rable.n.. cl1a.racter....c
I anI all for alnbition and success, but ,vhat I
remonstr3.te a,gainst is the particll1ar kind of ambi-
tion and success vvllicll is usually held up to the
yOU11.g man of today to emulate. It is
narrovv al1d. material, al1.d nearly'" al"'ways selfisl1.. A
n1an ought to set hin1.self a high goal, al1d
ought to attac4:"fl.llig:h. .. to ""t11a..t Furtl1.er,
ought not to - too .'. much' irhportance to
obstacles arid sacrifices; lie should welcolile these
.as challenges to test l1.is mettle. But tIle goal must
be great enoug'h to make tIle obstacles and sac-
rifices V"vorth v/hile; and it may be qtlestioned
whetl1er a purely material and selfisl'1 goal does
thrt.
rvVhat ougl1t a Ina!"l's goal to be? Stated ill the
most abstract terlTIS, it ought to be the
THE VVi!\.Y TC) WILI..I-PO\i\TER 51
mere duty of 111.aking hil1.1.self happy) to
.... ....:.'
social __,_ to confer th.e O'reatest benefits
.;i..,,;rJ<"'J' .... ,,-' .""",;;;"". ... ,' ,i,)," "i;', ",.. '_'-""'," .. ,
he can But instead of this, \'lilnat
"-j.,- .' ._.:.; .. I..... .. -.;.) ....p.';;,.::- ..
do nine-tenths of tI1.e StlCCess --&writers exhort us to
do ? They point to the great material successes,
the men who l1..ave gatl1.ered in 111:0re engraved paper
than other men, the Inen \vho liave attained fame;
and they tell 1.15 to ape such as tl1.ese) It is true
that a very large nUlnber of Sl-lccessfu1 Men, in the
process of attaining mone:l and fame, have inci-
dentally conferred benefits l1pOl1 manlcil1d.. That is
one of the vvays of acquiring money and fan1.e..
In order to "get ahead," you may work harder
than the l11an at the desk beside YOlt; you
study at home,you tnay be more efficient, you ,may
devise plans for saving the firm money; you may
patent an And by these methods,
adopted pritnarily tllat you yourself may get ahead,
you are aclding to your prodv.. ctivity; ybu are
il1.creasing the world-'s supply of goods and serv-
ices; you are cOl1.ferring benefits upon mankind..
Though your selfish,you are c?mpelled to
'It;' to per-
l?t
obliged to .. con
"But if the pursuit of vvl1.at you call material'
52 THE vVA Y TO WII.dL... POWER
and narrow and selfisl1. ends leads to all these bene-
ficial results,", son1.e one n1ay 'ask, objection
-
ca.n :rou possibly l!ave to them ?"( objection,
ray dear sir, is sin1ply this. So long as falne and
money are the ends S011ght, the benefits conferred
upon I-lumanity are mere by-products; wlrereas, in
allY civilization worthy of the natTIe, tIle ends
by individuals ought to be social well-being,
and fame and money the by-products) When
money is the end sought, and social well-being
n1.erely tl1.e by-product, vv-e produce more money
tl1an "\ve l1.eed and not enough We
over-eat al1d over-dress and turn out mountains of
silly luxuries; vve seek to outdo our neighbors in
material display; vvhile the e11ric11111ent of the mind
al1d the elevation 0 f tIle soul are ignored, or occupy
us only in moments \iVhen ,ve have nothing else to
do.
Material \vealth is all very "veIl in its way;
a certail1. amount of it is an indispensable prelim-
inary to any culture of the spirit ,vhatever: un-
less a n1.an l1a"ve enough to eat, his brain will not
for 1:l"ery long be able to function. But after we
l1ave acquired enough wealth to live in comfort
(v'vhicll does not include silly conlpetitive display),
THE vVAY TO V/ILL-POWER 53
we OUgllt to turn to higher and better things. I
feel lil<:e shouting: For God's sake, man, can't you
see that the acquisition of wealth is' a means and
not an end?
It is further and finally to be said tl1.at the m'an
whose sole ambition is to acculTIulate wealth (and
even to do so 110nestly), must give people what
they Wal1.t and not necessarily wl1at is good for tl1em..
A theatrical Inal1.ager can gather a fortul1.e by stag-
ing salacious plays. ..
- .. -'.' .. - , .. ' - ,', ". ",-: ....
V\[!..EP feet.
l1undreds of'"

essors ,
ail is to be said
for tIle ordirlary selfish ambition. It is vastly
better than no ambition at all. Though tIle benefits
it confers on otl1.ers may be incidental, it does confer
them; and tl1.ose benefits, even if they are usually
material, are often vast.. The world would be a
very meagre place if we lost our selfish :a.mbitiol1S
"\vithout 8.. cquiring ,altruistic ambitions in their stead.
And from the stal1dpoint of "viII-power, '\",,vhich is,
after all, our present subject, there is a very great
deal to be said for selfish an1.bitions.. Huxley, ill
54 THE \VAY TO VJILL-POWER
l1.is lecture on Sciel1tific Education, l1.appens to have
sajd tIlis so that I ca:rtnot'do
l
better than qllote
his "vvords :
"I do not wisl1 it to be supposed that, because I
happen to be de""voted to 1110re or, less abstract al1d
'ul1practical' pursuits, I am il1Sel1.sible to tI1.e vleight
"\J\rhich ought to be attacl1ed to that "\vhich has been
said to be the Englisl1. conception of Pclradise;
namely, 'gettil1.g OIl.' I loolc upon it that 'getting
on' is a very important ll1.atter indeed. I do not
111.ea.n n1erely for tIle sake of the coarse al1d tangible
results of success, but because litlmanity is so con-
stituted that a -vast nl1n1.ber of us would never be
impelled to tl10se stretches of exertion ,vhicl1
us "'wiser and more capable mel1., if it were not
tl1.e absolute necessity of putting on our faculties
all tIle strain \ivill bear, for tIle purpose of
'getting on' in tIle most practical sense/'
VIII
CONTROLLING ONE'S THOUGHTS
FTER tl1is ethical interlude on life's ideals,
perhaps we had better take our bearings again.
We have seen that whatever our ideals, wl1atever
our resolutions, we should, before adopting those
resolutions, calmly and coldly courlt the..... of
'Or"f" ,t ...,.
carrying them out. That was our first rule of
will-po"Vver.
l'JOV'1 tI1.e second rule follows naturally from the
first. (Once X911 having
coldly{ (iecided that that is what you vvant,"and that
r
you are to pay the price, your,' decision ,is
forever beyond dispute.] Y ne:\i:er.,.".ask"
yourself again whether the
'\tvlletlier""'if is really \vorth while sta)Ting home to
study for a specified l1.umber of evenings ea.ch
vlhether a--man 'yvho l1as resolved to stop drinking.
can really cIa so suddel11y without blovving to pieces;
"viJhether smoking is really as harmful as you had
thought it vIas; whetl1.er a man in a moderate
55
56 THE \VAY TO \i\TILL-FOWER
tion, withOt1.t so many responsibilities and burdens
on his shoul
r
lers, doesn't re8..Ily get just as much
enjoyment out of life as the Success,,' Those ques-
tions are forever closed: you have asl{:ed then1.
before and have decided them.. You will know that
thoughts determil1.e action, and to cop-trol your
actions you will begin by controlling your thoughte
YOlly/ill vivify all the advantages that will come
from carrying out your resolution. You vv-ill paint
them in glowing colors. Y Oll will dwell on them
constantl)l.. The disadvantages you will ignore.
They are disadvantages DIlly to fools: Cl wise man
does not thinlc t11em so.
I-Iere I need to give a vvarning. on.
the positive side; avoid the' negativee
on the benefits' of carrying your resolve out, not on
the of fight a craving
for let your imagination re"'ilel in
tlie picture of- the ashen-faced, palsied, loatl'1some
and pitiable -creature you would be as a morphine
fiend. Picture the healthy-
complexioned, are going
to be if you refuse it.
A morbid, terrible picture is a rnind-fil1ing
picture; it eJ{erts a strange fa,scination.. I f a
thought once sufficiently fills the mind,be' it never
THE \IVAY TO WILL-PO\VER 57
so terrible ul1reasonable or self-destructive it will
_,__ _'"4 ..... ,_".,.,<.",,>oo<i..."" N" .,,\f" 01' "'".,";" , ..., p''''" 0'''0',''''''''"".;, .c.. ,,,''''''';'!' " ., , , .. -,-"0_>.;.,.. ''"'"
be I need merely cite the fal1.1.iliar
experience of dizziness vvhen lookil1g over a preci-
pice or a high buildil1.g, or even a. lovV" bttilding if
there be no rail around. "-rI1.e height from sea-level
has nothing to do '\vith it; and the height of the
potential fall is less important than the acttlal danger
of falling. You grow dizzy because you tI1.ink of
what would happen to you if you lost your balance
and fell, or even if you were to throw yourself off..
r.rhe higher the roof or precipic.e the m.ore fa.scinat-
ing does this idea become; ilence the greater the
dizziness. It is tile very terror of the thOLlght, the
reality. of the fear
you dizzy. If
plete1
y
rid "ofthe"Idea, YOtt would completely lose
the dizziness. I knevv a man living in. Buffalo \vho
did not dare to visit Falls, lest he should
throw'" himself into the magnificent rapids just above
them. There are doubtless many like him.
Fill the mind tIle positive idea of your
r and ':l'OU '(viII .. ,c;q. it.,",;o,ut..".. '.
Some readersvvill have recognized an affinity
betvveen tllis rule and the doctrine knowl1 as "sug....
Little is yet known of suggestion, but
enou.gh is known for scientific merl to beconle
assured that it is no mere superstition; practising
IJl1ysicial1s recognize its great value. One vvriter,
rI". SJ.1arper Kno\vlsOl1, convinced of tl1e theory, has
made some pointed remarks on the subject: "VIe
have not to aim at a strong will, and "vait until it
'comes.' Act as if it had already come . . . The
man w110 feels cannot pass a public house with-
out an irresistible temptation to enter and drink to
excess, must he ca1Z-, and proceed to walk
past the place of temptation." FIe sl.tggests a method
for combatting insomnia. One S110tl1d say to one-
':self, "I sleep, I sleep," repeating these \vards until
a state is induced. CClt is vvrong to
say, 'I shall sleep,' because that implies desire,
l,Ience a. possibility 0' non-fulfillment. Suggestion
"lorks by affirlTIatioI!,. ,!lot by promise."
J.vry next piece of advice is this: Never defy
';.:" .. .. ')
it..
Yau may look upon this advice as inconsistent
with tIle above quotation. You rnay dismiss it as
unworthy. I mail1ta,lV, it. is rrr11der-r
l
-.. . .F,o.r,.llIg:_.. _...

ing, itJ .. ha:l(:e"t,he.. ..
In one of his studies in pessimism, Schopenhauer
makes a remark to the effect that man has
of <t.n.4.".. Ct.,.? at allY not rnore a
few of thenl mail's existence lTIUst
TI--IE WAY TO WILL-POV/ER 59
necessarily always be miserable. Schopenhauer
could" srot{ so opposed to
common sense because' l1.is psychology ,vas defective.
Desires are not ever-present. Desires are like
thoughts-they ar:e thouP"11.t:,--that come and go"
They are aroused by ,association and suggestion,
and less apt to ctppear when there is no association
o . _""" __
am, so far as I aln
consciously aware, content; wl'1ich is the same thing
as being so. Btlt I pass a fruit-stand; I espy sonle
delicious peacl1es, and there is il'llmediately aroused
the desire for peaches. TIle absence of the fruit
then produces in me a mavv, vvliich must be filled..
lhen I watch an exhibition tennis materl, my desire
to become a marvellous player is intense. \Vhen
go to a sl<:ating rink, I attach to... the
personal' When I
read a book on the -hIstory of desire
to'become a great 'philosoplie'r.::'. '-When I lIsten to
speeches in the riiJ.clst" of'''';]. presidential campaign, I
fancy that the one tl1.ing worth while is to become
an eminent statesman. Between campaigns, tl1.is
ambition falls into I .. .. ... .. .... ,.
beeri skating for a long time, my desire for pre,em-
_',' ._', .. "::.:,,. ,.".," _ .", ; ' __ , . ..:.._.. " ,.,e-":"H:._::t .. r:l". '-:,..:..'""'.. "l:, . . ,"' ,-"l ,): , -;.." ".
Inence in it . . -
60 THE Y TC) \NILL-F10VvTER
The moral of all tl1is, on its posit,ive side, is to
cultivate lTIOst your desires for those activities whicl'1
,viII best forvvard 3lour final purposes-tllose pur-
poses "\J\rl1.ich you have calmly, deliberately and fully
reasoned out. On the ne2"ati'v'e side, the moral is to
L' 4;- -.::: ..... :.'l......,;:.. j,.4.11: '7 ",,,,,,_",<.""i:""",,,
avoid all associations, sllggestions, lines 9fthottgllt,
which 'desires that
pU'rposes, that"is to
,resolved against.
The drunkard often has little difficulty in keep-
ing straight until he sees liquor; even then he is
better able to resist after l1e has scented or
tasted liqtl0r. If 'YOtI l1.ave resolved fore"'ver to cease
drinking, do not, to srl0'w the strel1gth of your de....
termination, as people do in n1otiol1. picture dJ;amas,
put the red glass to your lips al1d tl1en set it down.
Putting the glass to your lips is liable to be your
ul1.doing. Do not raise the glass. Do 110t, order
the drinl<:.. Do not enter the saloon. I f the saloon
is directly in line on :your \vay home, and habit has
dictated your entrance, "\valk a block out of the
way if necessary_
]\ir. says that you should tell your-
self you can and thel1 cIa it.. That is
all very vvell for the later stages, but I fancy yO'll.
THE vVl\Y TO \VII-JL-PO\VER 6J.
will find that suggestio!l and self-faith h.a"tle their
greatest value wIre!'1 nc)t over-strained.. Y
not a ..
ing yourself )iOU can. Bttt by" graclt1.al
... '" . . ... .... ... ''''. . . ... ' .,"'" l' .,- "";"'""-.'"r"'-"i:."...

pEysl"que--'w accompIish
. . , _ . -." ....-".",; .. :_ ... ',:-.. _.. ,... _. '., .;:. ".,._... _..:
,marvels he never dreamed of before. And tIle \"J'vill
is ust I
....., .. ,. "'.'_., 0" . ; "i,';..c. ........... ; c. ....... .:.'l,; .. ......- .: ._;':: ........ ..." ,.; .. .. __ . .. , ...,:;."'='i.;,.... ... ....";;.._ .. ..... ...., ."',::.>L, . (.
This is not my discovery. Bacon discovered it
' ....... ;',:Ok
some th,ree centuries ago; and tl1.ough his langt.lage
is some"\vhat antiquated., .. his "'iNisdom is as \rvise to-
day as on the day it "vas vvritten: "I-Ie that seeketh
",ictory over his nature, let liinl not set himself too
great nor too small tasl<:s; for the first v.J"ill make
hitl1 dejected by often failings, arId the secol1d "\viII
n1.ake hin1 a small proceeder, tl1.ougl1 by often pre-
,railings. And, the first,," let
helps, as sw"immers de>, bladders,. or rtlshes;
b
e 1 1," ..' 1 d" d .
uta1.ter a tlme. et ..
do _with, thick shoes; for it breeds great
perfection if the practice be tl1an llse.
H
Therefore it is better to \valk around tIle
a 'lvhile, if you mtlst, before going past. 'I"hen 3rou
TIlay have faith; and YOtlr faitl1 will be strel1gthene
ii
b:y the modest record of avoidance be11ind you..
62 THE WAY TOWILL-PO\i\TER
"-rhis alcoholic illustration, as I have indicated
before, may be legally obsolete; but it is sufficie1"lt
to indicate to a reader fertile in ideas the applica-
tion of the principle to any other illstance.
IX
THUS far I have spoken as if desires (and fears
and aversions) \vere the sole' determinants of
action. We come novv" to sOluething quite as ilnpor-
tant, if, indeed, it is not more important than these.
Wl1.ile it -is often determined,by tllem, it sometimes
,'; .': .0- ,:. -
determines the
tn
,and itofteh.guides action with no
.. title of this
cnapter, the astute reader will have already surmised
what I am talking about.
We may best approach the phenomenon of habit
by going outside of the individual and l1.is brain.
Habit applies to the inanimate no less than to the
animate world. Fold a napkil1. in a particular way
a.nd it is more easy to fold that ,vay tl1.e next time.
The creases in a sheet of wrapping paper become
indelible. An autcmobile engine runs more
smoothly after it has beerl "worked in," and tl'1e
friction edges worn dow11. The very clothes on
yottr ba.ck form habits: they fit you better after
63
64 T'RE Wi\Y TO V/ILL-POWER
)TOU have worn tl1.elTI for sonl.e titTle than \\Then they
are nevv; they drape more sl1.ugly to the form. The
notorious difference in comfort betweel'l old and
ne\v shoes is possible because the old shoes' hav"e
been worked into certain feet-confoTlning habits.
vA patli across a field, be it never so winding, be-
carnes beaten more and more, becomes more dis-
tinct and unalterable. That is because it becomes
' . - ...... I...-.... {"..::::- ;., J." ': ..;(. .... .. . .
lTIOre and more tIle patll of least resistance. ....Arid
. , .. ;-',., ", ,_I .'.:' \.," '." .. .. ._....;, .... r"'y;.... ,
.. the tendency of all bodies and forces, animate and
inanimate, 'tofolIow" tIle., ..
is tile.. secret of '"the of habit.
. , '.-... . ' .. ,._,;.' -..,,' '" ll'i "4-:'; .. 1.,': :i:t1( ,:'-:.., .. ;. ':'" ',.'
Y au assert that the field pat11. is forrned b)r
hUl11.an beings, creatures of l1.abit, tIle beaten path,
and of ruts. I by the illustration of a
river bed, whicll. the '/Tiater fol1ovvs, tllOUgh the bed
tVJ"ist and turn al1.d v\ril1.d.. Originally it was formed
lly sheer accidel1t, as tl1e ,vater, beginnin.g as a
spring on a l1il1 or n10l.111tain top, bubbled up, made
its way around tIllS rock and over tllat, split here,
joined there, washing ayvay t.Ile grav"'el as it -"vent,
digging its bed deeper and deeper, n10re firm and
more unchangeable, till at last it flo\ved in a full,
deep, U!ltroubled currentt. Y011 ha\re doubtless seen
the bed of a spring or brc)ok (lried up at certain
seasons of the yeare definitiol1 of a brook is
a body of water; yet you know, though there is no
water here, that this is indeed the broolc, for tl1.is
is the path the \vater will take when it flows again..
The dr!ed-up b,rook-bed \iYhG}.t
..;1.;.::' '. -, ' ,. ...
like in the brain" vvhen are 11.0t actil1g upon it.
fan1iliar compariS011. to
tIle \lv-arId created by Ulan and not by nattlre is the
groove in a. phOl1.ograph record-silent in itself,
but always read}T to produce a ttlne, and always tIle
same tune, whet1. it is put 011.; that is to say, when
the circumstances call it forth..
The omnipresence of habit is almost terrif.yil"l"g
\7vllen .. From t11e tninute a
man shuts off his ala'rn1 clocl<: on one till
the n1.inute he SllUtS it off 011. the next rnorning, it
controls l1.im.. It dictates and Inakes possible nine-
tel1.ths of his actiollS. j-\rtd nine-tel1tl1.s of the habits
". r . ,., ...,._. j. ....... .... -_,_ ,......St ..... .. ' ... \,','>J. .'4-Io,\o;'I1.". 1;.:...... ;.......... ,-:."" .'
1"110st l.nen It is
astounding tllat n1en shol.lId so leave this thing to
chance, the
Ii _'C'
up" at his habit to
get up at eight, thougl"l he has set 11is alarm and
his intentions to arise at half-past seven. If it is
his llabit in a vacant way to COl1template getting up
for fifteen minutes before does get up,
66 THE WAY rro WILL,-POWER
that he will do every lTIorning. WIlerl he. actually
gets up, l1ahit di
..... .. - -' ., .
"\lvl1.ether shirt or trousers, o1.}, ..
collar or sl1.oes shall take precedence, "\vhich shoe
sh,all on the other, \vhether he begins
buttoning his vest froln the botton1. or from the
top.
At this very private stage of liis toilet we shall
leave l1im a moment for a digression. This digres-
SiOl1. is needed to point out that habit is not always
evil. The same confusiol1. of thought exists in re-
gard to habit, and about being a "slave to habit,"
tI1.at clusters around the vvord "desire." Most of
tIle average luan's habits are 11.0t
dlspensablea defined as an
-, " - ' ;. ..:.,.' - '. _" roo:
aptitude or inclination for some action, acquired by
frequent al1.d
facility of yerformance or in decreased p0"':Yer()f
Less correctly but more
Sllbll1d define habit as tl1.e doil1.g of a thing
conscious attention and often without thought of
the purpose of doing it(/ Most men cannot tell you
l1.ow they dress, which shoe they put on first, or
"\vl1etl1.er they button tlleir vests froin the top or
bOttOll1, until they first mell.tally rehearse the action
or even until they actually do it.
rrIIE WAY TO WILL-PO,\VER 67
As to the great blessings of liabit, Dr. Ivlaudsley
says: "If aTl act became 11.0. easier after being dO!le
several tin'les, if the careful direction 0 f conscious-
ness were necessary to its accomplishme!lt on each
occasion, it is evident that tIle \vhole acti"vity of a
Ii fetime tnight be confined to one or t\-VO deeds-
that no progress could take place in development..
A man Inight be occupied all day in dressing and
undressing himself; the attitucle of his body would
absorb all his attention and energy-r; tIle washing
of his hal1ds or the fastenin.g of a button vvould be
as difficll1t to him on eacl:1 occasion as to tl1e child
on its first trial; and he woulcl, furthermore, be
completely exha,usted by his
t he ... __.. .. ....
many efforts ..and-of .. the .ease
'\vith .. whi<:h ,it at last stands, ul'1conscious of
effort.,"
Returning now to our typical n'lan and his morn...,
ing we follow hirn downstairs to his break-
fast. Habit dictates ,vhat l1e eats, whether his
breakfast is light or l1eavy, V\Thether he takes a
cereal or not, whether his fried eggs are turned or
not. Habit has already dictated what time he
usually .arrives at breakfast; it must, therefore,
inevitably dictate whether he shall bolt his breakfast
68 T'HE \VAY TO \VILLgPOV1ER
or ta.ke it leisurely. I-Iabit dictates whether l1e
props his paper in front of. him at,,/breakfast or
'\vl1.cther he "\vaits until he boards his train. Habit
dictates his table n1anl1ers. I-Iabit
i
" dictates l1.is tone
of v'oice to l1.is fe.. I f he JJbards a train, habit
clictates v"ll1.ether 11e sl1.all get,/on the rear car or the
.'
second car frOlTI the Arrived at his office,
habit dictates the in which he approaches
.:(
his "Vvor1:, the \va.y hC:/i'handles interviews, his pro-
fessional n1.a,nnerisnTs'., his tricks of gesture, his
choice of words, ITl's \Tery 11.1anrler of thir1king and
'. .:",,: ['J-.......'''; -::
''Y:eY C?f looJcing at thil1gS.. Habit dictates the time
. " .' ;". ,..... ...;., . ,-. .. .... .(l;, ..... t ,'C
he goes out to luncl1, and tIle place to which he
goes. 1vIal1jT a man "\vith a special lunch.eon en-
gagemel1t at an unhabitual place lias suddenly
cl1ecked hil11self to remember it, after finding that
l1is feet had carried llirrl right up to
the very door of l1is customary restaurant!
Finally, "\vllen he has home and taken his
dinner, liabit nictates 110\7': he sllall spend the e,\rening.
If he is in tIle l1.abit of going out every night, he
""'{lill feel restless and Ul1.COrn fortable staying in.", FJ.:e

out ,bl1t b,ecause h.e
.... :'
nO,t ,rhat else to do. He kno'\JVs merely that the
i,'.1...;';;J.;.: ,',";1 t.,_::::.....
thought of staying 11.01ne is I-lis 80-
called pleasures, far fronl spontaneous, fall into
THE WAY TO vVILL-POWER 69
certain conventionalized and
which may be ,ca.lled social habits, habits.p6ssessed

';nd another, one town
' ':; ._. ..,.-::. ->;. ... ' ..."1 . ......."""f.:..::: ... ... ;1I', "'"... .... ..... ''! ,'::-';"''', '.': ";"::, u:"'" .... :::,,;:,.,.;,..
in tI1.e saIne country and Our Inan wili
firld' out to
play poker; tl'len for another period he will find his
most frequent diversion ,viIi be going to dances;
for a "\vhile it "\Vill be going to tIle theatre or the
"lnovies"; for another period it Inay be bovvling;
then it ,viII be staying at 110me to read. Such
habits cllange with seasons, by sheer accidel1.t, al1d
in differel1t periods of life. TIle evenings of some
l11en areas nluch a burden to

earning their bread al1.d c.heese. As tlley dress to
go out, tl1.ey sigh. They are about to etnbark on
. one of the accredited nlethocis of '''l'1aving a good
time"; it often does not occ'ur to them to ask
\vhether they are actually having it. They vaguely
regard going out as a sort of necessity, like Fate.
They are indeed slaves of l1abit.
But our n1.arl'S day is 11.0t ended.. He returns
110l1.1.e. Habit dictates the hour at which he re-
tires, evet1 thOtlgh l1.e has rnade a tl10usand resolu-
tions, night after nigl'lt, that he sliall hereafter re-
70 'THE WAY TO WILL-POWER
tire an hour earlier. In fact, the nightly resolu-
tion itself may be a habit. 'The resolution is usu-
ally made in tIle mornil1g; for an outside influence
(his emploY'er or tIle relentless call of business) has
pretty definitely fixed tIle hour at which he n1ust '
arise. His man11er of 'Llndressing is as definitely
fixed as his manner of dressing.. He puts out the
light, opens tI1.e vvindov\T and goes to bed. Habit
dictates the ppsitiQnhe apq11me
S
in
or faiIsio'sleep.' ..,.,,,."M" , ...
ve enough, and
we leave him. Tl1ere are worse than l1.e. Absent-
minded persons
y
not acc.ustomed to changing their
dress to go out of arl everling, and intending only to
take off a fev:y articles, l"lave found then1selves get-
ting completely undressed, and proceeding to go to
bed.
Y au wIro laugl1. irre"v"erently at this, who l)oast
that )101..1 are free frOlTI unthinking habit; and that
you act ol1.1y vv-ith thought, kindly make this experi-
ment. Perhaps :;{OU carry your watch in your lower
right-l1.and vest tl1e cllain across your ,rest,
your keys or knife or ornament in the other pocket
011 the end of the chain. Reverse it; put your
\i\latch in your left-hand pocket. N ow, with-
out making any special effort either to forget or to
THE W ... A.Y TO WILL-PO\tVER 71
remember tl1at you l'1ave shi fted your vJatch, wait
until an unplanned occasion to use it arises, and see
how many times you reach irl your rigllt-hand
pocket for it and pullout the other end of the chain
before finally a new habit is formed.. Or put your
"\vatcll. in your upper pocket, and see hovv many times
)lOU reach for your lo\ver pocket artd think frantic-
ally for a nlornent that your watch is gOlle. Or
shi it your silver Chal'lge from )Tour trousers to
your coat pocket, or from your right to your left,
and see hovv many times the vvrong hand dives into
the wrol1g place!
Habit .... s i bIe th
.the'"
.-... --.....,:, ......; __.oUi=--"W.......
practIce at swimming, tennis, skating, dal1.cing,
bo"vling, juggling, automobile driving and stunting
wit11 an airplane, is nothing more and nothing less
than the fornlation of habit" I l1ave learned to
operate a type\vriter by toucll. As I write tl'1ese
\?'iords, I do llot have to pick out the letters on the
keyboard. I do not look at the keyboard. I do
not even think of the letters. I think only of what
I am going to say; I watch tl'le words on the paper
as they marvellously form; and my fingers, \vith-
out attention from me, are mysteriously finding
their "\vay lightning rapidity to tIle proper
72 THE \VAY T'O WILL-FO\l\lER
l-ceys. Habit! And if I should sta.rt to think con-
sciously of my fingers or the keys, I should begin
to make mistakes and my s'peed vvould slo"'vv up.
I f you are still not sufficiently impressed with
the importance of habit, let me qtl0te to you the
vllords, not of a moralist given to sermonizing, but
the dry scientific statement of fact by a psycholo-
gist, W .. B. Pillsbury:
"The useful man is for the greater part marked
off from the useless and the vicious by the nature
of his habits. Il1dustry or indolence, good temper
or bad temper, even virtue or vice, are in the last
analysis largely matters of habit. 011.e forms the
habit of working at certain times of the day, and
soon if one is not busy at that time one experiences
a lively serlse of discomfort. Or, on the contrary,
one forms tIle habit of loafing all day. Work then
becomes distasteful and indolent irresponsibility is
established. Losing one's temper is largely a habit,
as is self-control. Each time one is provoked by
a trifle, it becomes the more difficult to look calmly
at an unpleasant episode; while each time one re-
mains calm under difficult circumstances, strength
is gained for later difficulties. Similarly, whenever
'.. .... ..:..... ....;.:."'7',: ..... ":f.';::: 0" '",:' :'>l.'... l"".,,.;',';,;.-. .... ....ll-'r. " .
is .. a victory; when \
tenlptation is yielded to, nevv
\VAY TO V/ILL-POWER 73
Frequent yielding m.akes resistance practically im-
;,-,.,,,,-.. ,.. "";" ........, ......}. w: ,"', . .....'...... l-......__ .... .....".... .._','<:;r- 'Itt, "', .... '""{:,;(',It ',.;:.- ':1' ..... .. .. ...... ... ......
possible.. bank preside!lt of established morals'
no n1.ore step out and picl' a pocket that was .
tetTIptingly t.lnprotected tl1.an he could fly. The
l1.abitual drunkard can no more resist the invitation
to have a glass than he carl resist the action of gravi-
tation while fallil1.g freely through space.
giving in lias entirely destroyed his free-
.. """"",.. ,.,.,:..,.."",:.".,,,,,,,-,.,.. .. . ,'',._..;,,'''''''''''''',.'''' ..v;c,'' .. >. ..... , ... "-..,-,,:;
x
THE AL TION OF HABIT
TJABIT being of such enormous importance, it
Jl Jl is our urgent duty to seek the means of form-
ing good habits and of breaking bad oneSe
I-Io\ does habit become possible? For the
anS'Ner. to that, one must turn to that strange and
awe-compelling mass of gray and white matter
boxed the bones of the skull.. The brain is
con1posed of an immense ntln1.ber of separate and
minute cells, called "neurones." Each is connected
potentiallv with a number of other neurones.. The
.to-
points of connection are called. "syl1apses.. " vVe
111.ay visualize the brairl as a network of delicate
piping or exquisitely slender tubes, eacl1 tube con-
taining a number of valves leading. ..
,...",Thehib"es
comes from the o11tside world, it
sends a,
a.s ttie current of SOlne fluid, like 'o\-vater, through one
of tIle tubes; this forces itself out of one of the
14
THE WAY TO WILL-POvVER 75
valves into the particular tube leading, from tl1.at
valve; this tube turn a l1.umber of valves,
and the current forces its vvay out of the one most
easily opened, and so on, until ... ...e_mer:g,e,.s,,",.
.. an action. III this picture
I have represented as tubes nerves as well as neu-
rones. The tubes \vhicl1 send incoming messages
to the brain are called nerves; those which
carry out the orders of the brain are called "motor"
nerves..
I f tIle (i'u.t\vard stimulus is all itch, the nlessawge
is carried by an 3.. djacent sensory nerve to the brain,
passes through tI1.e tubes and valves there, the neu-
Tones and synapses, and emerges through ,a motor
11.er"'7e in the form of the action of scratching. Or,
the itch is discovered by some l1erve in the eye to
be due to a scab, vvhicl1 it wOtlld be harmful to
scratch,. Tllis nerv'e sets i up a counter current;
otl1.er valves are 0l)en,ed and others kept closed, arId
tIle action of scratc11ing does not follow. Certain
valves, or synapses, are frOlTI birth predisposed to
open wit11 particular ease.. TI1.e special paths whicli
tl1.ese make possible are called instil1ctS. TIle in-
fant feeds 011 its nlotl1.er's breasts at birth. It has
had no experience, 110 knovlledge; it may not be
able to see. Yet a particular sensation awal{ens a
76 THE \7VAY TO WILI-i-POWER
particular response. The instincts we have in com-
lTIOn. In addition to these' inherited paths which
all l1ave, there are paths open in the brain at birth
\tvhich vary in different individuals. These vve call
innate characteristics.
Now while these paths of instinct and innate
are often highly useful, they are
sometimes exceeljingly dangerous. They l1eed to
be supplemented by experience and kno\vledge
Jt
"\vhich dictate the opening of new or altered paths.
"Vhen a path is once taken, it wears down the valves,
the synapses, tl1rough \vhich it passes. Those
valves open so much the easier thereafter, and the
taking of that path becomes so much easier the next
tin1e. On tIle next passage of the current tll0se
particular synapses open more easily still, until the
tin1e may come when they will forln the only" pos-
sible path, when it "viII be impossible for the welI-
,vorn valve to offer lTIOre resistance to the on-rush-
ing than the valve seldom or never opened.
Suell is the physiologist's explanation of habit,
and. it is at once a despair and a glorious promise.
F<?rming a ne",T habit is like forging for yourself
a new path ill tIle '''Dads, through stubborn under.....
brusl1. and prickly thorns, while all the vvhile it is
possible for you to take the well-vvorn, hard-trodden,
THE WAY TO \\lILL-PO\;\TER 77
pleasant path that already exists. But you can re-
flect that e\rery tilne you travel througIl tl1.e nevV'
patl1 you are gC)il1g to tral11p dov'ln lnore shru'bbery
arId clear :rnore el1tan.glements from the "vay_ Every
time you take th.e patll it is going to become
-At\.nd that is tIle cheerful side.. \\Then you first
set about to abalisl'! a bad l1a.bit ancl establish a good
one, it is gOil1g to take all the effort, all the "wil1-
po\ver," at your conlrnand. But habit begins soon
to the place of \"v
7
ill-povver; it will require less
and less effort, less al1d less \viII-power, each time;
the strain climinishes, ul1.tii in time it disappears..
For fhe practice of that partiCtl1ar virtue, "\vilI-po\c'ler
has become almost l.-1.seless.. VVill-povver is not
needed all the time. It is called for only at the
period of change.
But the period of charlge is all-important. It is
better not to be too ambitious, and not to try to
too many habits at once. Yet as soon as
find one nevv metl10d of response becoming
atltomatic, )r'"Otl may ttlrn to another.. Yau will
al"\vays find another. No matter how long you
live nor hovv diligent you are, you will never ex-
l1aust tlie supply of new good habits that it is pas-.
sible to form, 110r the Stlpply of old bad habits it
is possible to break. And all the time you "vill be
\
78 TI-IE WAY TO WILL-POWER
l(eeping aliv"e the faculty of effort witllin yOtt. Ptlt-
til1.g forth moral effort, or failin.g to, is itself a
1 ...
.n.aDlt.
All tl1.is carnes under the head of wl1at ;\;
it
/illian'l
James would call 11zaking Olir 1zervous SySt.eJl1t
ally instead of ol,tr which consists itl m.aking
auton1atic al1.d habitual, as early as possible, as many
useful actions as we can. James, building on the
suggestiol1S of Bait1., has laid dO\tvn several maxirns
of habit which' it "\vould be difficult to improve upon:
"Tile first is that ill tIle acquisition of a new
habit, or the lea'v-ing off of an old one, ,ve must
take care to laZt1//"clt o14rselz'es w1:th as strong a,nd de-
cided a..tL i1'tit-iatiz.rea"s .possible.. Accumulate all the
possible circumstances which shall re-enforce the
right n1.otives; put yourself assiduousl)r in condi-
tions tl1at encourage the new way; mal<:eengage-
ITlents incompatible with the old; take a public
pledge, if the case allo\!vs; in short, envelop your
resolution vvith every aid yOll knovv. This will give
your new begil1.ning such a n10mentum that the
temptation to break down "viII not occur as it other-
"\vise might; arId every day during vvhich a
do\vn is postponed adds to the chances of its 110t
.. II ,$I
occurrIng at a .
In this connection let me say a word about the
THE WAY rro WILL-PO\iVER 79
effect of a change of environn1.ent upon a change of
habit. In our ordinary Ii fe a certain routine is laid
down for us from without, and this largely cOI1.trols
the routine developed from witllin. Our l1.ours of
business a,nd the hours at wl1.icl1. we take Otlr meals,
the til1.le it tal<:es to get froni the office to the hallIe
and tIle metliod that n1tlst be tal<:en, the very a,rral1.ge-'
l11el1t of furniture in our room, all help to el1.gerlder
al'1d develop al1.d petri fy certain But if a
break sllould occur in tl1.is routine, if the hours or
the nature of our business should be changed,' if
"\ve should n10ve frOll1. the city to tI1.e country, a vast
llumber of our habits would be changed perforce_
Such cllanges in environlnent should be
when tlley occur; they should be recognized and
seized upon as rare opporttlnities for the conscious
form.ation of ne\v useful habits and the brea.king
of old bad ones. The old habits \\rere made possible
becau.se they were unconsCiOtlsly suggested by asso-
ciatiol1S itl the old' environn1ent. Bt.lt wIlen "\ve
cl1ange, vve Call. no longer do some of tl1.e old things
absent-m-indedly, because the old responses are not
suggested, an<l often tlley do rlot fit. ReforlTI in
our habits or rising and retiring, in the h.asty or
leisurel)T eatirlg of Otlr tneals, and many another
daily ellston1. that determines our life happiness,
80 THE WAY TO \\TILL-PO,i\TER
thus becomes more possible. But the trouble! is
that n10st of us, when such opportunities con1e, fail
to appreciate then1, and fall again uncol1Scio1+sly,
witl1.out deliberate choice, into habits as bad as tIle
l1abits vve left..
'\ Returning to the James-Bain rnaxilns, the second
.,;
.' is ever suffer aft . exception to occur till tlze new
p . .. "'""';'cc.' .. c C' ....... " "..... . "-""'."""""""''''",''''''''''.,,..;\.,'''...,.'''"',,, ",.'..
Y0tir lifee Each
- ..... .. .... ..... .. .. .... ", . .. ,. :
the letting fall of a ball of string \vhJc;h one

many turns will Continuity of
'/:fAi':" ..... .... ,
{raIriIngis the great means of making the nervous
system act infallibly right."
A German writer lIas remarked : "He who every
day makes a fresh resolve is like one who, arriving
at the edge of the ditch he is to leap, forever stops,
and returns for a fresh run.. "
TI"1is . leads to James' third' maxim, '\vhich is:
(((:Seize tJze very first possible opportunity to act on
,. every resolution you 1nake" al:zd on every emotional
prompt-i11g }'OU may expe'r'ie1'Zce in the direction of
h/a,bits y01f. a.spz:re to gai'rt. It isn6t in the
r11.0ment of their forrning, but in the moment of
their producing 1notor that resolves and
aspirations comn1tlnicate the nevv 'set' to the brail1..
No matter how full areser"voir of 1,naxi'11s one rna,'
.".
THE vVAY TO WILL-POWER 81
possess, and no matter hov; good one's se1tti1nents
!hay be, if one has not ta..ken adVal1.tage of con-
crete opportunity to act., one's character n1.ay remain
.....
entirely unaffected for the better."
And to impress his relnarks, James gives a final
example: It'The drunken Rip 'Ian Vvinkle, ill Jeffer-
son's play, excuses himself for every fr.esh derelic-
tion by saying, 'I 'won't COU11.t this time r \i\Tell!-
he may not count it, and a kind Heaven may not
count it; but it is being counted none the less. :pawn

among his nerve... ....
" '-

against him "when the next temptation comes. .\\
...'"''lOC.... "-;;_'fI...,.''<''- ....... .....c_''''"'"''.".;>:'''''.''''._"'''<.,"'''''""",..."",., .. ",J
Nothlng we ever uO 18, In strIct SCIentIfic lIteralness,
vyiped out."
Oh, the pathos of telling yourself, vvhen each new
temptation arises: "I will begin to reform the 1/te.xt
time. I will yield tl1.is time, and this "viII be the last..
H
.Oh, the tragedy of that excuse! Self-deception could
not possibly be more complete. I f you can oniy
tell yourself, when tem.ptation arises, not that this
time will be the last" but than tI1.e last time was tI1.e
last! If you can only repeat tl1.at to yourself, if you
can only force your attel1.tion to rivet on that fact, if
)TOU can only realize that the wliole force of your
moral effort' nlu,st be summoned 'flOW al1.d not
82 THE \VAY TO WILL-POv\lER
truly you vvill be on the vvay to will-power..
IS Vvcty..
ideals, excelleIlt lllottoes, splendid resolutiol1S, are
all mere preparatiOl'l for the struggle.. They are all
very well in their place, but if they do not express
themselves in actio1tt
y
al1.d express thelTISelves at the
moment when temptation has come, they are worse
tI1.an useless..
There vvas once a lnan v)[hose ,ife, for curious
reasons, "vas b'eaten by anotIler man.. This beating' oc-
curred regularly. The other n1al1. would break il1tO
the l1.ouse, flog t h ~ wife untnercifully in frOl1.t ,of the
husband until sl'1e fell unconscious, and then leave.
The otl1.er man ,vas bigger than tIle husbal1d, so
the husband could 11.0t fight back.. But the husband
bought himself a revolver. It ,vas a beautiful re--
volver, with an exquisite pearl handle, anld its nickel
finish glistened in tlie sun. TIle husband loaded it..
The other ITlan canie agail1., beat the Inan's "vi f e
until she screamed f01" luercy, and left her prostra.te..
at son1e vague time it1. the future, if you can burn
into your lnind tl1.at t h i ~ battle, tltis invvard struggle
against ten1.ptation, is the only real al1.d crucial one,
about tI1.e moral struggles won or
in the past or to Vvil1. in the
................ "-"- concentrate battle
i1
THE WAY TO WILL-POV\TER 83
i6But whe1
4
e ,vas the husband?H you ask.. He Vias
rigl1t ,on the scene. "Didn't he' use hIS re""volver ?"
you persist.. VV' ell, tIle fact must be admitted- tliat
a very strange thil1.g l1.appened.. V/hen the otl1er
n"1an came, the ll:usband was so frightened tl'lat 11e
dropped his revolver and tan. Tllis happened
.agail1 and again.. It may be said to the husba.nd's
credit, that every time tIle" beating' was
over, and t11e other man had left, the husband
aivvays came back, picked tlP his revol--r,rer, petted
it. lovingly, p,olished it again, pointed it witll. magni-
ficent determination at an imaginary object, 'and said,
""Ah, wait till he con"1es next time."
This is a parable$ It is l1ardly n'ecessary to point
out th,at tIle other synlbolizes the man's. temE_-

'" wife' symbolizes his better self that the' revolver
and the his senti- "
In the moment
when they were l1eeded, these cartridges did not
"go off,"- they did not explode, they were not ef-
fective, and the simple reason v\ras that the man did
not" the effort to pull the triggere You
.need ask yourself only one question about this
parable, but your answer must be honest: "Does
the husband symbolize M-e ?"
WILL AND THE PSYCHOANALYSTS
RACTICALLY within the last few years there
has grovvn up a body of doctrine, gradually
coming surrounded "\iVith a formiqable literature,
"Vvhich its proponents call a "science"; and I shall not
start an argument at tl1.e beginning by denying
its title to that word. This body of doctrine is called
If'psychoanalysis." It is not quite clear whether its
adherents consider it a, branch of psychology or a
competitor. But at all it has just now be-
come ubiquitous. It is in the air. It is the' fad.
It has come out of the laboratories into draw-
ing Tpoms, out' of the consulting rooms into the
newspapers.. It is discussed by .doctors and book-
re:riewers and and sc?ool gids.. (!.t ....
wIth human .. the wlI) ....
sires it .dowrirecommendations and a.ny m94::",
".' C",; ...".' >.', .'. '-J.'." '. .., ._ _' . ' ,- .. _ ':." ,,',., .. \ .J:."': ",. '.
PQQk it.. .. e
nJ
p:f.ef 9.r,.

,84
THE \VAY TO WILL-POWER 8S
u..pon this body of doctrine.. It is so young. It
has already, to my mind, n1ade not unimportant
steps iri the treatment and cure of inSal1.ity and
nervous diseases, and bids fair to make greater.
Its theories of multiple personalities and the meall-
ing of dreams seem to me fruitful worl<:ing hypoth....
eses, destined to add to the achieven1.ents of psychia....
try.. Its explanatiol1S of puritanism and of certain
phases of war- psychology, utterly apart from the
. .. '
question 0' \'\Tllether or not they have sciel1tific
value, are delicious arid effective bits of satire; atld"
as with Tl1.otstein Veblen's work in economics, the
satire is heightened, not diminished-, b3
T
the dry,
scientific in ,vhich it is wrapp'ed and
the in'1partial scientific attitude \vhich it affects.
Psychoanalysis, doubtless, is proceeding orl many
vvrong theories; but it is constantly testing those
theories, and 'as tin1e goes' 6n the bad vvil1 be cast
tlpOn tlle scrap-heap and newan,d better tl1.eories
substituted... It is tapping and specializing UpOl1 a
,rein vvhich the acadelnic psycllo1ogy 11. ad neglected.
It has attracted "vide pop'l11ar interest. It has
,brougl1.t _COl1troversy into psychology; and contra-
versy, "\vith experiments to prove or disprove,
alvvays ,meal1S Ii fe an-d growth and progress, and
is tIle enemy of stagnation.. It is true tI1.at the
86 . THE WAY TO WILL-POWER
literatu1
6
e of psycl1.oalialysis is morbid, gruesome,
depressing; filled with sexual perversions,with in-
cest, sadism, masochislTI, sodomy; but
"\vl1.at \iVould you? Medical books on physical dis-
eases are also l'1orrible-but l1.eCessary. Spiritual
scabs and ravages and pus are n1.ore revolting than
pl1ysical-but like the physical, if \ve are to cOlnbat
them, we lTIUst study them with the cold detached
inlpartiality of the ph}TSician. We must for the
moment put aside our iTloral platitudes and denun- .
ciationsand COlitempt and study the disease and
its cu-re.. The physiciarl does not denounce his
patient for becomil1.g ill, though the patient Inay
\ .
well deserve it.. He.,,,,,seeks. first to restore health.
... ; - " ..... ,c;:., r,;:"';;:",.,\ .'r.;,:;;;.' .:>. :.;:;-_,_ -"':":; - ...
AdmOl1.ition carl only .
.' .C:,l.fiF
But when I have all this ill. fayor of psycho-
I have alrnost as nluchas I conscien....
\ .. .,5tJ1\ii' -
tiously can. of its practitioners are '\vel1-
, .
grounded in psychology, an.d in biology and
nledicine. It ut,ilizes orthodox medicine, biology,
psychology, anatomy and physiology "\fvvhen they ,can
be used to prove a special point, and rejects them
'Tvhep. they can not.. There is hardly a single analyst
who could be called a cautiollS thinker.. Most of
tl1em do not appear to kl10'V the. difference betvveen
a substantiated tl1.eory and a guess.. Presulnptive
THE WAY TO WILL... POVvER 87
evidel1.Ce is set dovvn as if it were conclusive evi-
dence. SOlne of tb_eir deductions are highly fanci-
ful. They "
1i
lvouldbe extremely difficult to verify,
and there is usually no attempt at verification.
Whenever humah nature is praised, proof is re-
quired; but a'pparently wlienever it is satirized or
insulted, proof is deelned superfluous.. The most
dubious conjecture, based on tlle frailest kind of
evidence, is set dOV\Tn vvith tIle positive air of a fact.
'Explanations for vvl1.ich the best that can be said is
that they are possible or plausible are treated as if
they were the final and only Ol1.eS; though alterna-
tive explanations, at least equally and possibly more
plausible, and certainly nowhere neat as .far-fetched,
may occur to a person 110t aJtogether hypnotized b)r
the Freudian interpretation.
(It is one of the foremost Freudian theories-if,
indeed, it is not tIle for:,emost-.-that every
C
r
' tor:: t1.\ ..q{:,. '1<\',f.4;,-
(notso1ne dreams, mind you, but everyone 1)

?r .. This de-
to Freud, is practiccill
y
always a
sexual one ; at least the predominance of the sexual
element appears to be overwhelming.)
N 6vv such a theory in its bald state would not
i!npose UpOl1 a half-,vitted persol1. So the psycho,.,.
88 THE VIAY TO
al1.alysts go 011 to show that n'1Qst dreams are
"symbolic.. " And what ingenious. symbolism!
Tile unconscious mind asleep seems to Ole infil1.itely
lnore clever than the conscious mind 'avvake! It is
also a theory of Freud's that every act, every slip
of the tongue, every bit of absent-luindedl1.eSS or
forgetfulness, means something. Forgetting a
name, an event or a figure, is not merely failure
to remember; it is a positive act.. We forget be-
cause we have an uncqnscious desire to forget; the
fact or name is associated with something unpleas-.
ant, and tIle mind tends to.. eject it or the uncon....
sciou$ to suppress it. I I had tilne, for your
edification, to quote' a few typical examples of the
"interpretations" which the .psychoanalysts give of
dreanls and trivial acts in the light of
these theories.. Their cap,acity for reading any-
thing they choose into anything they want is utterly
enormous.. You would sometimes think from a
'few of these "interpretations" that the psychoana-
lysts were satirizing or burlesquingthemselves..
Really it is not so. But tl'le reader wITo' has suffi....
cient psychologic curiosity to be interested in seeing
how a theory Cd"n be ridden to death and then pulled
to its feet and ridden vv
T
ould find tJ,nsurpassed
THE VvA Y TO WILL-POWER 89 .
material 'by delving a little into psychoanalytic
literature.
p'J:.. large part of the interest in psychoanalysis is.
.'\' ..
almost wholly prurient.. It is to the fact that it '....\/' ... ..
- .
deals, so largely with "sex," I verily believe, \t
it .owes the larger part of its popular, vogue./,/lt
t'
seen1S, too, to have a certain tendency to wailo""v
in it and firld a morbid fascination in i.t.. Examples
of sexual abnormalities are piled up with a relish
not unlike that wl1.ich gossiping people have in re-
scandal, and often apparently with the satne
object-to tell the tale for the sake of the tale. The
e}camples are uSl.lally lTIOre tha.n are needed to en-
force a given conclusion, though the exact bearing
of each upon the conclusion is not always
There can be little doubt that the reading of psy:.,,,,/ l.'
choanalytic literature tends to suggest and \
sexual trains of thought in the minds of many
.readers,. and I am here speal<ing of "normal" .
readers, and not of what the psychoanalysts \vould
call a "sexually hypersensitive" "hyperresthetic"
reader.. The same, of course, Inay be true of a
n1.edical book.. I am not condemning.. I am merely
stating a fact ..
This statelnel1.tha.s been made before, and one
90 '.fHE WAY TO WILL-POWER
psychoanalyst has attempted to answer it in this
wise: "The sexual material is present in every
subj ect, l1.ormal or abnormal, and comes to the sur-
face very easily.. No suggestion is necessary to
bring it fortllo"
That is emphatically not an answer. W'e have
seen before, in our inquiry into the nature of de-
sire, that desires are not ever-present, but become
active only when SOllIe train of thought or some ex-
ternal observation' or stimulus has aroused them;
and we illustrated by a pll.onograph record, which,
while it preserves a tune, is silent when it isn't
being played.. The example of passing the fruit-
stand was given as a case in point.. The like is- 1
true of sexual desires.. Whether a desire '6comes
to the surface" or stays belovv is a point of very
great importance.
The psychoanalytic method is incomplete, insu.f-:
ficiently checked up by other methods, and rests upon
some dubious assumptions.. It seeks to interpret
the normal mind through a study pf the abnormal
mind.. This is a valid and method
within proper limits, but it can be overdone and-
handled. "The neurotic," says one psych?-
analyst, "only accentuates certain general human
traits and tendencies and he makes them, thereby,
THE WAY TO WILL-POWER 91,
easier to observe. H SUCll a statelnent needs qualifi-
catiOl1.. Instead of "accentuating" a trait of a nor-
mal man, the neurotic may be a neurotic because
he so greatly. distorts it. Disease SY1TIptoms do
110t "accentuate" health symptoms..
Finally, to all these sins, p'sychoal1alysis adds the
unforgivable crime of pedantry. I do 11.0t l<:now of
a science tI1.at habitually ,vraps its thoughts in such
awesome and jawcracking phraseolog)T, with suc11.
a maze of newly coined words, above all, habitually
tacking on tI1.e nlagic word "complex" de-
scribing any trait wllateV"er in order to mal<eit
sound as if something ve'ry profound had beel!
pointed out. most of tl1ese psychoanalytic
thoughts are disentangled from tI1.e verbiage in
which the;Y are snarled and concealed, and lie be-
fore you in all their l1.akedness, tl1.ey are seen to be
either very comn10nplace and obvious, or very ab-
surd.. ,Such a discovery might be suspected in
vance, for poverty of thought habitually tries to
conceal itself beneatl1. a deluge of diction.. This'
maybe a case of the "unconscious" or the "inferi-
ority complex," forn1.ing a "self-protective neuro-
sis!' '
But this is digressing.. M)r purpose is not to
criticize psychoanalysis as a whole, but to exalnine
92. THE WAY TO WILL-POWER
01'1e of its cardinal doctrines which seems to me to
bear on the subject of will-power.. Butfirst
I sahall have to explain wl1.at that doctrine is..
The psy"'choanalysts lay a good deal of- stress
upon what is comn1.only called tIle subconscious,
and what they call the unconscious. Their-con-
ception of tIle unconscious is vividly described by
Mr.. Andre Tridon, in a book on "Psych03.11alysis
t.and Bel1.avior," from vvhich I sl1.all take the liberty
G
10f quoting:
I "Our un.conscious 'contail1S' two sorts of'
I 'thoughts' : those which rise easily to the surface
our consciousness and those which remain at the
j
r/ bahram and only be made to rise vlith n1.0re or
less \difficulty..
"Our unconscious mind is li1-;:e a pool into which
?-ead leaves, dust, rain drops andatthousarid other
things' are falling day after day, saine of them float-
il1.gon the surface for a vvllile, sonle sinking to the
bottom al1.d, all of them, after a while, merging
tl1.emselves with the water 'or the ooze.. Let us
suppose that two dead dogs, one of them weighted
( ,
d.own with a stone, have been thrown into that poole.
They ,viII poison its "vater, a!ld people wishing to
use those waters 'vv-ill ha"\le to the ooze and, re:..;
mo-ve tIle rotting carrion. The dog vJhose bo.dy vvas
THE WAY TO VvII..tL-POIER 93
other
unless a IS
renTain are
desires. The second are cravings
which we not only fail to gratify, but of wl10se Tvery
existel1.Ce v"e are una\vare.. If someone were to
suggest, that \ve had such CraVil1.gs we migllt even
vTehemently, and perhaps hOl1.estly, deny it. These
ar.e ,called desires.
'Now, say the psychoanalysts, though vie Cal1. Sup-
p,ress or repress our cravings, \ve cal1not annihilate
then1... T'o use one of their similes: "Whether we
in ignorance of the fact that ,a boiler is full
of steam or simply disregard that fact, the steam-
an outlet and likely to create an
not fasterled to a:riy hea'"'vy ,viII easily be
to the surface and removed.. The otl'1er
,.viII l)e more difficult to. a,nd if the stone
is ver:y h.ea"ry, may remain in the pool until'vvays
a1'"ld means are devised to dismember I'1im or to cut
the rope holding him down."
J:..rOvV tl1.ese two be made to
tvvo sorts 0 desires or cravings. Tl1:e first of these
o which, be-
What will this "abnorn'1al outlet"- h'e? Accord-
ing to the psychoanalysts; it may take several ormSei
'
f ... al,' , for instance, '
prenaredfo;\sonre disturbal1ce wl1.ich does not solve
.. L,._, ';..:,;; .;:',;'.- " . .;.'_.;c 2>,;;;';';' .., .. .. .. ...... ......... ...........;.,.""".l:J_'
the conflict b ", seeks to escaQe it by changing the

other words the or repression of sexu,al

nightn1ares, intolerance, hallucin-
, \,
ations, dual and mUlfitple personalities, insanity, or
lburst .,opt .. in sexual perversions of a
sQrt.
tperverslons in great men. \They point with a I
.. .. .
warning at the ascetics and holy men and women
who were fighting the flesh, and contend that these
exchanged normal reality for hallucinations, and
normal desires for perverse desires.
And what cure do they suggest? Here I must
be cautious, and warn the reader that the
analysts do not altogether agree upon, this lnatter,
among themselves.. I will try, however, as best I
may, to do justice bulk of their opinion..
Tp.ey believe, first, that we should be 'made
",-,:,.. ;: ..... . '" ': ," _ _ _
. conscious of our cravings. To liiake'""'"flie
subject conscious of these, Interpret his acts,
study his dreams, unravel the symbolism, and
gradually inform the. patient what his repressed
cra"Tvings are.. This is cutting the rope tl1.at holds
tIle d ~ a d dog down.. The first job is to bring him
to the surface..
Critics have feared that causil1g these uncon:-
scious cravings to rise to consciousness may causE;
tl1.em to overpower the patient's ethical strivings..
The belief has also been expressed that this Inethod
rnay suggest ~ craving or put into the mind of
the patienf a harmful idea that was not, there
before.. Freud, the originator and patron saint of
psychoanalysis, has. answered to the first criticism
that a V\Tish whose, repression has. failed is incom-
para.bly stronger when it remain unconscious than
when it is made conscious.. The unconscious wish
cannot be influenced arId is not hindered by striv-
ings in the OlJposite direction,_ while the conscious
wish is inhibited by other cOf.lscious wisl1.es of an
opposite nature., I shall n:ot t a ~ e sides on this par-
-ticular argument, but shall merely COl1.tent myself
with -presentil1.g the, two p-oints of vie'7\[, leavil1.g
the reader to judge 0' their merits for himself.
When the uncol1.scious CraVil1.g is brought to the
surface, vvIlat becomes of it and what is to be done
vvith it? Partly, say the psychoanalysts, it is "COll-
sUlued" and overpowered in the very act of bril'1g-
96 THE WAY TO WILL-,PO\VER
It may, accord-
By sublinlation,
seeks to tltilize
represslol1S and
of, a non-'
ing it up.. Instead of beil1.g repressed, it is con-
demned. The psychqanalyst may' also suggest
healt11Y and normal and socially beneficial -or harn1.....
less \vays of gratifying it.
But there is something further.
il1.g to Freud, be "sublimq.ted.. "
Freud understands "a
tI1.e sexual energy, .......... 4 .......
set free by analysis, for l1igher
sexual nature.. In other "\7Vords,
..
and
the utilization of the energy . __ ./A.J;,..II.
. -
\. in such in activities of our mental
l we tITe highest cultural achievelJ:1:ents..
\ .
\sublim?ted.. the of the
.. ..,_,="'"
'fAll this is and promising. But alas I .
The doctrine is +olently criticized by many other
psy<;ho,anC!lysts.. 0 norn1.aI craving/' says one,
"can be norlnaIly repressed.. Nor can it be'
normally sublimated." And again.: "The desir-
ability or sublilnation,except as a social con"tTen-
ience, remains to be proved.. "
In fact, it is doubtful to just what' extent Fr'end
(
THE WAY TO WILL-PO\7VER 97
himself believed in this thedry.. In' of his
tu:res he said: "If tI1.e renression of sexuality is
, "...
:e.
lIe cOl1.cluded this lecture
1rvith' a story.. A village community kept a horse
which was capable of an enormous amount of ;
... ,
the \viseacres thought that it v.;ras prov- .o::'
ing too costly, by consuming too fodder. So i
they day by'
It tllat the horse was livingon,:J/\'
.4 ,,'
f!J' . . alk f h . d h 1
... .. .
<" . . . .' '. 't
.. mOrl1.111.g lie was to be takel1. to\\c
i no
... ','-, """_ ';';" " " i
he' was found dead in hls"'stall. The "sublimation" i
o fi .. . )
Tlie suggestion is plain. Freud is putting the de!
sire for sexual gratificatiorl in the, s,ame category as
the desire for food. I Cal1.not see tl1.e justice for thaT;
and I.ani sorry, if, in pointing Ot.lt l1.is fallacy, I aln
obliged to titter a fevv platitudes. F()odisabsolutely
ai'
There is 110 011.e to derly it. Sexuality,
hovvever essential to the contil1uation of the race,
Il,as no itldisp'ensable cOl1nection with the individual..
/ No one l1as e,Ter been 1<:no"\7\
T
n ,to live without food..
Ho"Vv many 11a-ve lived "\'vithout sexual gratification
THE VvAY TO V\TILL-POWER
98 -
no one can say; but I have no doubt that the nuu'1ber,
in its totality, has beel1. amaZil'1g1y large..
The psychoanalysts point to monks al1d ordinary
individuals who, attempting to deny the flesh, suf-
fered from l1.allucinations or finally burst forth in'
abl1.orn1.al perversions. Most of tI1.e examples they
cite ll1.ay be true.. ft.,.11 of the11.'1 may be true. But
t11at would not prove their case.. In order -to do
so, tI--ley vlould have to prove what the logicians
call a universal negative. They would have to
Sl1.0Vl tl1.at there has never beell. a case in which
the flesh has been denied without physical injury
or mental disturbance.. Either tIl-at, or they would
have to supply overwhelming evidence to show tl1.at I
01'1 a priori' grounds such a thil1.g", is impossible.
They have not done so.. They l1.ave 11.0t come near
doing so.. And though it is impossible to prove
beyond question of any given individual that he
has not indulged in any sexual practice of any kind,

of nrominent churchmen scientists- nhil-'
' ',::> ...
__ .
ceeded in a13s,qJ
wholly . .
"""
And before going any further it vvould be well
to call attention to a point of the 11ighest impor-
THE WAY TO \VILL-POWER 99
tance.. Altogetb.er apart from the trutl't of one
belief or the other, we lTIUSt consider the moral
effect of tlle belief.
.... .. ,

B '.. i
What
you believe in this respect vviII have an overwheim-
ing- influence upon what you do.. ..
..J:Yjl1
lead-tomenta! tortllre or abl1.0rnlal then
,. ",,,,,.,.,,. "'"''"''''' ...
this fear will be constal1.tly before yOl;ll'/' {
'
you are confidel1.t that the desire can be success-
fully fought, your confidence '\vill vastly increase
your strength to fight it..
..
you. will tend to 1'na,ke 01/tY trueG
not to' a philosbpl1.ic praglnatist to appre-
ciate that. I hope I shojI be forgiven for a liberal
use' of -italics and repetition on tl1is point: I think
they are l1.eCessary..
There is another question in regard to this
matter.. Vlhat is a "norlnal" craving? The psy-
choanalysts (arId p'erl1.aps they are not alone ill
tl1is) apparently put tl1.e sexual desire on all fours
"\vitl1 the desire for food.. But the satisfaction of
100 . THE \7\1AY TO WILL-POWER
tl1.e desire for food does 110t result in any reaction..
It does rLot weaken a mal1c . It does not depress..
It d.oes not el1er,rate. I t does not exhaust.
here ,ve sllould dravv a silarp distinction between
two vvords that up to, 11.0\'V I have been using aln1.-ost
il1.terchangeably.. I refer to tl'1e. distil1ction betvveen
a desire and a CraVi1/lg. e have a desire for food,
bl.lt a craving. for .. cio-a,rettes -vvhiskey morphine.
S!:;tii,,,,,,,.,'0ir-=:tktrr,,,,,;A"'ii;;""'"'' ',' .
The first fills a posltlveneed, and glVes. a posItIve
satisfaction.. is largely negative; it
may give a positive ;.,satisfaction at the beginning,
but in its later sta:ges,especially if o11e. becomes a
or a fiend or a dipsomaniac, it , I

, -'"
sexuai craving' a "normal" cravIng silTIply
'Qecatt:se it is inborn, while a craving for tobacco,
or opium is abnormal because it is acquired? .
But if this di?tinction is valid, of wl1.at real prac-"
tical importance is it so far as tl1.e is,
con,cerned? Surely tl1.e acquired craving ,may be
fully as intense and overwllelming as the. ('normal'"
cra,ring.. People vv-11o do, 110t believe this may
these examples quoted by Dr. 1\;fussey:'
"A few years ago a tippler was "put into an
WAY TO \TVILJ-t-PO\i\TER 101
almshouse in this State . I Within a few
L. __... ,
he had devised various expedients to procure
but failed. At lengtil, llowever, lIe hit upon
which was successful.. He \vent into the "\vood-

of the establishment,
.. ... .
With the stump raised and
,..,# '. ,,' ;'::-::
streaming he 1"n into the house and cried, 'Get
some rtln1.! gef some rum! NIy is off l' In
tIle confusion abd bustle of the occasion a bowl of
f
rum was brougpt, into which he plunged the bleed-
il1.g member his body, tl1.en raising tl1.e .. bowl to
l' "
his mouth, drantk freely, and exultingly exclaimed,
a
tnaii ,yh<:>, while urlcler treatlnent for inebriety,
during four '\leeks secretly. drank the alcoliol
.. .. .. .. ..":,i;;,,,,, "'"A'"".. '
SIX Jars contaInIng morbId On asklng

.as <-",it is forlne to control the
.. .. :.':.. '"" /,,'_ . \'.';'!,' ", j. ":..to",.', . '<7,,"
of n'ly hearU"'"
.. '< ..
...' -' Do the P?ycho?-nalysts, or does anyo;le else,
I
believe that. it. is impossible to fight a craving of
this' sort, and ttiat tl1.et'{; is 110thing to be done but
gi,re in to it? I do l1.0t thil1.k so.' But if a craving
of this intensity can be, fought, why not so-called
, 1()2 THE WAY TO WILL-POWER
"norma.1
H
craving? Yvhat '\vould the psychoanalysts
cOl1.sider a "nornlal outlet" for a "norn1.al" craving?
Jllst l1.oW frequent would indulgence in a given
"normal" appetite have to be in order to be a
,cnormal outlet Will the psycl1.oanalysts,or any-
one else, deny that indulgel1.Ce in itself develops
and il'1CreaSes a craving? Surely the psycl1.oanalysts
are tl1.e first to declare that abl1.0rmal perversions
of the sexual instinct are acquired, that they began
and developed because tIle sexual instinct o-rginally
. took a wrong turn, al1d were intensified because that
persisted ino
tl1.is, one has come rather close to :;pnl'i.tting the Ul1.-
qu esti0 nabIe t rutIl. that
a
tel1.sity ,and. particlllar or111" it takes, very latgelyan '

Let us grant' tIle psychoanalysts' contep.tion that
3,n atterl1.pt to fight the sexual craving, as' it has
become developed, may il'lVolve nlental anxiety, and"
even, if the craving be powerful enough, mental
torture for a time. Would 11.0t the struggle against '_
the craving for drink, developed to the intensity
in the dipsomaniacs just cited, or even ill. far less
intensity, also involve mel1.tal anxiety and torture?
Any conquest or act of will worth while i11.volves
THE WAY TO ,103
tl1.at.. I f there were no' price attacl1.ed to will-
power, it could be had for the asking.
One last argument n1ay'- be urged in support of
the "normality" of the sexual desire as opposed to
other cravings. It may
.. __
i ..
p ....
forrn and, .. to a extel1.t
uponlearly. envir.Q..gment, imitation" ,at
critica:it tilTIeS, frequency ,/ yet the
. t
rganism is endo\ved witl1.an instinctive
";;', '.' ."," ..
\t",jithout which the sexual. CraVil1..g as developed
,vol-tId never have come into existence.. This is
true.. I have not del1..1ed it. But if it is true of
the sexual desire, it is true of e"\Tery other
It is true of the developed craving for rum, for
opium, for morphine, for overindll1gence in
arettes or even in candy, or for n1.ere gluttony.
The formation of these cravings is possible because
the organism has certain instinctive propensities.. ,r,,/i
___ .... ii"
J\len do not usually, forni passions for

has no instincti"'rJ"e .. these
". matter how
perverted or
'r"' 'c: ':, ':' ,. ': ,;' :' :',.:.=. :F,; ..,.\ ;'''; '/'.:: ... '):...: .. ;...;. i:;:.; I Ii ;1;"; . ,:,:,;:,.:; ," ...=- R.i'.. :it;:"...,,- ,-:.
ft"()p:1, therCl,VV1TIaterialsof/'insfi,nctive propensities0
\
106 THE WAY TO WILL-PO\i\FER
e){:periments or elaborate psycl1.iatry to den1on-
strate it.
It oLlght not to be necessary-, but -to shield 111)t
remarks from n1.isconstruction and misrepresenta-
tion, I want to defend 1Ylyself again.st any taint of''''
purital1.ism in the invidious sense in which the
psychoanalysts and Mr. H. L. use th-at
",?vord.. I do not detlOU11.Ce the sexual act as immoral
in itself.. I do not declaim against tI1.e gratification
of the sexual passions in wl1.at the psychoanalysts
call a "normal l1.1.arried life," provid.ed that grati-.
fication is continent, and dges not reach the POil1.t
where it undermil1.eS or endangers ph)rsical
lJ.ervous and mental llealth arid
do that i
mal<:ing point: that i-l1.e
craving can be -fought, that" it can be li\red -doYvn,
. I . .
that it can be conquered, and that tl1.e conquest -of
THE WAY TO VvILL-POWER 107
it wottld immensely strel1.gtl1.en the character, and
make most other nl0ral victories comparatively
easy.. I hold to the ideal of Huxley, of" a lnan
"V\rho, no stunted ascetic, is full of life and fire, but
..
whose passions are trained to come to heel by a
vigorous will, the servant of a tender conscience."
Perhaps- there are psychoanalysts 'VIIO will agree
with all this.. Perhaps there are psycl1.oanalysts \ivllo
will protest against my fuIl'ninations" saying tl1.ey ,
do not hold the views I attribute to them, that I
eitl1.er do not understand' tlleir views or that I vt'"il-
fully 'distort If I have been unfair, if I
have .thrOl-lgh lack of discrin1.inettion blamed all
psychoanalysts for the faults of a fe\v, if I have
unjustly damned tIle leaders for the views dissem-
111.ated by ardent but muddle-headed and ignorant
'disciples, I alTI sorry.. I have meant only to assault
a pa,rticular idea.; I l1ave tried to be fair; al1.d
wherever, P?ssible I have take11 the psycho,analysts'
o\vn words to sfate tl'1eir . But whatever
the psychoanalysts do or ,do not teacll, there is no
doubt at all about the popular impression of \vhat
they teach, and the popular impression (whicl1. is
tI1.e all-in1-portant thil1g) is it

highly daJugerous to try..
108 THE WAY TO \VILL-POWER
This vicious doctrine existed long before tI1.e
psychoanalysts, but the present menace is that
psychoanalysis may foster and encourage it, by'
seeming to lend it scientific /foundation and support..
Tl'1e doctrine must be utterly demolished, and every-
thing that appears to offer it respectvvorthy standing
must be examined and' exposed.. rrhis is all I have
attempted to dOe
XII
CONCENTRATION

T
HUS far I have spoken of the breaking and
. forming of habits, and of the acquisition of
will-power; but for the most part I have gi1lel1. only
scattered on what to do with your will-power
after you llave it. Most of these hints have been
negative; they have talked of the avoidance of
certain acts ; and where they have been positive,
where they have talked of the performance of acts,
they have beet! altogether lofty and abstract. \Ve
ha ..
eralities to the forest of details.
.'.'" .. .. \
OUT ultimate. ends and yearnings I shall, for
the take for granted.. I assume that yOl1
know what you want, that you have definite ideas
.on where the treasure of happiness 'is buried, and
that you merely seek aid in securing the implements
to dig for it. Your aim in life may be wealth,
l?ower, fame, or a partnership in the lime and
cement business.. Assuming its existence, \vhatever
109
::t
110 THE WAY TOWILL-PO\VER
it may be, and the willingness also to pay th.e price
for it, ,ve ha,ve no"\v to inquire 110W the price is to
be paido
Your effort of vV'ill is not throw!'} out all at 011ce.
You ,are not asked to pay casl1. dovvn in full. You
are permitted-nay, yOtl are obliged--to pay for
your end in installments', in relatively small efforts
of will. Btlt these efforts of will must be continu--
ous. and sustained.. If you miss a payment, the
penalty imposed '\Alill be exorbitant, and you will
have to make a much greater total payment in the
endo On tlle other hand, if your p'ayments are
made promptly, you 11vill find the alTIountcalled
for diminishing all the titne..
"'Tith most ends, one 6f tl"1e reqtlisities ""viII be
the acquisition of kno,rvledge-\iVhether one's ulti-
mate purpose be material success or the pure search
-for Trutll.. The sition of tllis
.. __
\\tillrequire concentration..
,
ow . this conceiitrafiol1. vvill be mainly 0f t\VO
kinds-,vhat I shall call minute....
'. ,'/" (lAic; ...-. " . ,.' ,..' ".
and what I shall call .
\, .... .....".,., ... ..... H-.1',., ...., ..
. Minute-to-minuteconcentration is tI1.e
.....:.::p...-...,,..,>....,\.,.;;s.A''>!''c;,.,:,;, ... "..:.'l.i ;,
ability to your mind upon a certain subject for
a given period, say for tell minutes, one-half hour
.'..
111

remember
THE WAY TO WILL-POWER
as any
or t'VV'o hours, without interruptiorl. Nigl1.t-after-
nigllt concentration is the ability to specialize in a
certain subject or ion a certain branch tl1.at sub-
ject until you have n1.astered it thoroughly, before
to other subjects.
Ere I go further I n'lay have to justify the con-
sideration of this question by asserting
centration is primarly an act of.vliII. It need not j!;

f you are i!1:terested in 'a book
or ina particular subject, you ,viII :rea;d it or
I-neditate upon it vvitll0Ut effort.. But you need vvill....
in action precisely because you do not enjoy
doing these thin.gs, al1.,d you need "Vvil1-
. po\ver in readirlg, or' \iVriting precisely
your mind will otherwise be distracte-d by lack
or lapses '0' interest in the subject at hand or by
greater interest in sO'nletliing else.
Now
112 THE WAY TO WILL-POv\lER
.. worth
isOto' anythin<ro.f value.. Concen-

trati'on' is abstract quallty-of n'llnd.
e cannot. concentrate in general. The word '
. .... .."';l-,;-.,, ...
concentration .. means
and when we
devote all or most of our time and attention to one

time for other subjects.. In otl1.er words, we must -
content to remaIn somewhat ignorant of them,
at least for a time..
This applies 12articularly to .night .after night\,
I f you
. \the' nt:xt'
. . ":i::<;C;,,'oi.'<, . ... ..... .. ..
to the problem of the freedom of
4
the vvill the next
.. '. t{ ;:';"j ...
to incidents in the life 0 Theodore
l1.ext to: ..

s[ray bltsof the ." amesort}of

as an old curiosityh.9P.JL or a ,
.. .. .."I;',.'t<it,;.;'.:.. ... ... fi,'!-.t-.':: ....
store in which vellow-backed novels. of nassion and
':w;:;.'--4-..... .... ... 't;" .... .;:. ,l.::Uf.."';:',: ...;,, .. ... .. __... ... .... ....--.-..... '''''''_
,.::r;;R9,;.;,
." ... '. . .
. ..

eco11.omist, nor
THE WAY TO \7VILL-POWER 113
where..

. '"
name..
.
thing,
an
to knoT,v about

not only miss kq0wing every g
", " . ..
a
anythin'g about anything'.. ,Your n'lind may miss
01d curiosity shop-t11at
the pieces of furniture in' it, though they ma)i not
match each other, are at least in thelnselves complete..

your. ..
;', But i f
t
specialization, that it ,."
... .."'; ,:,h'; ,t'.c!. 7;'1,1. -,'; ,",
...!" . ..
..
will be to rerllain .. of certain
",:, .,.;.
..... .. " ,.. , (l..,........ Even if, like
'. 'krlowle'dge as your
province, you must remember that, even a traveler
wl1.o circles the globe can go to only one place at
time..
I have spoken here only of keeping to one
subject on those evenings on vvhich you do choose
to study.. I have not spol<:en of the evenings gi\ren
114 THE W P1.Y TO WILL-PO\7\lER
to other tllings. It tnay not be advisable to give
or severl eVerll1'lgs a week to study'. ' l1eeds
one's play to lceep But are
.... ... ... ,. ,
liluits everl to this principle.. No man 'lvill become
'an Aristotle or" a Duns Scotus on an evening, a
week. "Most careers,'" remarked a newspap:er
.recently, "are made or l1.1.arred inc the hours after
supper.. "
, ,
tyVhat applies to night-after-night-concenttation
1..
"\iVithi n1.uch --_.. force to minute-to:minute
concentration.. -
the san1.e old rules..
., .. 1 1 1
,
"\vl1en )TOU ;;lreupq1}.al1)T
r
,given trail1.of
.. j".:,-' '.' .' -'. .,l;:: .
vlill p'aths on
.'. .-s."',!, .... - ',;-,' .. . .. ;:1" ..-'N''!' , _ , ,', ;",

L ;, ,"'.:i:"""" ,:,:;"\'.y'.-., ..,
while '
you must forceyoursel
road tI1.at yo'u began. YOUirrust first get'
tl1.e end of that.. You
digressions, to retu-rh to them
SOlne later time; or if you ,fear you are going
THE WAY T'O WILL-PO\VER
itself..
as
for the less in1.portant subject, if con-
:.
centrated upon, w'ill . 9-1: be mastered.
. ." e
I have dealt wIth thlS subject of concentratl0n
rather extel1.sively in a fOrI1.ler boo1:, Tlli'ftkingas a
Science. It was. there treated from \
standpoint of tIle intellect; her,e it must be treated
fron1. the stal1.dpoint of the will; but as the two
cGt.pnotreally be kept separate,and as I woufd only
'be lilc<rely to repeat m}rself any\vay, I take the liberty
of doing so openly:
. ',_ ' "'1>-:",
"]vIue!'! of our mind isd
ll
eto,.tbe'\
. .. <: \ ..: . .. , . ,.., .... ilC:4jI'C""""""'''''''f;;'''''';fi;..i
I fact .. . .'t .
:roblfJm.'
,.' .. -'>" .>;.'""\' ,- -':"'(''';
thouglit ions brillg up new ideas or suggest
problems vvhich do liot bear on the question
value of on the

it
concentrate upon a Important
and a more ................ ..-
forget thenl, you lnay make
-. . ,
116 T'RE \l\lAY TO WILL-POVvER
l1.and. Now when we
ideas
or fact needs
pointed out that if this new
Idea is important it will be so ol1.1y by accident"
I f we were consciously to ask ourselves whether
any of these irrelevant problems were as important
as the one we were concentratil1.g upon, or even
important at all, we should find, nine times out of
ten, that they were not."
It n1.ust be
1)r oken j'us'f":''11"ICe''''''''othe'r 'But, ' , I hear
3TOU say", "all this is beyond my, control. I can't
keep my mind on a book when somebody insists
on talking in the same I can't any-
thing ,vhen the family in the apartment upstairs.
plays the victrola. I can't keep 'rnyself to a train
of thoughtwitl1. constant interruptions 1"
_ But, with all due respect to you, and with fufl
realization of the risk I run of losing your respect, .
I insist that you can.. Yau have done it., Certain
allo\vances must al\vays be made for the unspeak-
able noises that other people make, but you can
THE WAY TO VvILL-POWER .117
ignore them easily enough when the time comeso
Can you not recall, when, as a boy, you read the ad-
,Tentures of Jack Harka\vay al1.d tl1.e Chinan1erl, so
that you became unconscious of the very room in
vvhich :youwere sitting? Has the of the
smile given you by a certain wOl1derful girl ne"\Ter
COine betvveen you and a very prosaic ledger, obliter-
ating the figures as completely as if they "\vere the
fancy and tI1.e smile the reality? Has your wife never
l1.ad to ask you a question two or three times at
dil1ner before you arls\vered, simply because
conlpletely 'wrapped up in some thouglit of a
. business .u!"lpleasal1try that da)T, and did not l<:novl
that she had spol<:en? i\ll these forms of in-volufl-
taryconcentration,of which you -vvere not con-
scious, were possible because- the interest in the
subject was intense enough.
. PO,\Terty in freshl1.eSS of idea and in varied
expressio!l tempts me again toqtiote from myself:
"Whenever a persoll is -for a short
with no one to tall{ to and no 'readil1.g l11atter' ;
v"hen for instance, 11.e is standing at a station
"\vaiting- for, his train, or sitting at a restatlrant-
table waiting for his order, or llangil1g on a st.1b-
'vvay .strap when l1e has forgotten to buy a neT\vs-
paper, his 'thouglits' fend to rUl1 along the tracks
118 THE W Y T'O \VILL-PO\vVER
tlley have habitually taken.. If a young n1an usually
allows a popular tu.ne to float thro'ugh l'1is l1ead,
that will be most lilcely to happen; if he usually
thil1.ks of that )TOung lad)l, he v\!Till most likely think
of her tl1.en; if 11e has often imagined l1.imself as

of. a
.... ... . ...... ..... -."'
. .
___-
"'Tl1.e a man can put a
sure to away again. They may do
often as fifteen tilnes in half an houroput>.

he becolnes aV\lare of it,. he
- ;;, '".,;-:-1' ;.. ..::.,;;..
,,"'along the
channel he has laid out for If he h;;""';;;7';;;
': ''1''+ e . . .:;t. ...' ., :""> .. "::[2 ,::,,,
done this" l'le-, vJilY iiilC{" effort great.. But if he
merely resolves now that the l1ext tin1e' his' luind'
wanders he shall stop it in this nlanner, his resolve
will tend to l1.1.ake itself felt. If l1e succeeds in
follovvil'1g this practice once, it \vili be l'1'1uch easier
a secol1d tin1.e.. Ever)T time l'1edoes tl1.isit "viII
becon1e increasil1g1y eaS)T,. until l"le "'fv,vill arrived
at the p:oint where l"1is cont1
1l
o1over his th6ughts
will be almost absolute. Not only will it be increas-
ingly easy for him to, turn his ,mind to serious
subjects.. It will become constantly lTIOre pleasur--
able.
become
A PROGRAM OF WORK
XIII
OST 0. US live in the Street of By-and-By..
We honestly intend to do certain things, and
for some strange reason \vekeep on intending' to do
them.. There is difficult about
them.. no heroic
not
a certain or perhaps there is no particular time
at all at which they have to be' done.. They can be
"'II done jtlst as v\Tell torrl:0rrow as today. So we put
them off till tomorrow-that tragic tomorrow that
never comes. We become lnembers of what one
I' has called the "Going To" family.. We enlist
.. ... . the Arlny of the Procrastinators.'
The worst of it is, that n1.any of us .do 110t look
upon the doing of these numberless small tasks as
an)Tthing requiring vvill-power at simply because
they do not come in tIle teetl1-grittil1.g class.. \Ve
.... __............. to do them, and we are apt to think that our
of doing then1 makes thel'll as good as
THE \VAY TO V\TILL-POWER 121
We are like tile habitual cigarette smoker
,,rvho tells yo,u he could quit at any time-the thil1g'
has no hold on hin1.-only he doesn't want to quit.
W,hen we, find that nlany of these little tasks are
o-oing by default many of us instead, of" .blaming "
b , ,
..
our lack of. time'., But a fe'tv of us catch glimpses
..
of the truth; we suspect that we are not as efficient
as we might be; we may even suspect that our
procrastination has something to do with of
witl-pow'er.. These two stlspicions are correct"
Aside rOU1' any nioral benefit, it "\vould be an
untold bles-sing in itself if we could get these things
done-if we had, for instance, a private secretary
who would work for the mere honor of it and
would not have even'to receive instructions.. I refer
to such tasks as writing personal letters to friends;
working off letters that you 6owe" to p'eople; pay-
ing bills; sel1.ding in your coupons to collect interest
on a bond; taking a pair of shoes around' to be
or calling for a pair )""ou left there-;
sorting out the old papers in your desk; bringing
neatness out of chaos .. . .. I need not elaborate
further" You have probably been already reminded
urlpleaSal1.tly of SOllie concrete tasks..
These tasks are not performed by intentions to

122 THE WpJi.-Y TO WILL-PO\7VER
The 'first
to
Instead saying,
have to \vrite Fred; I really lTIUst write Fred; it's
a shame ll-o\iV long I've beel1. putting it off," you
v/ill say, "1 ,viII \vrite Fred next Tuesday," or ('I
\viII vv-rite to Fred not later than next Tuesday.. "
Al1d )TOU will keep a desl<: calendar or some other
form of reminder, and' your' promise to yourself
you will regard as sacred...
it 'may not make a dreatdeal of' differel1.Ce
..... .. .. - "".'
to
or wl1.ether he
of curling your lip
indi\Tidually' insignificant..
, .' must
be eloquel1.t) lla:ve. only ,by little brick
. ,', .',':,' : -: '.. '::" ,-:.,:, .. ',: :,.,'.. "._; .
you will find
-;;:;'"-getting Lh.emselves You will
live a completer life, free frolll ever-present,
preoccupation of tasks .A....nd you will
THE W A Yr-r'O \iVILL-PO\iVER 12'3
Note' that there is nothing rigid or brittle about
suel'l a program.. Yau 11.1ay not vvant to vJrite Fred
immediately after' y-C.ll get his letter, for you luay
not ,vant the correspoIldence to be too frequel1.t ..
But by marking a certain definite tin'1e you cart do
you had not previously doneo
A progran1. of work tnay be laid out for t11e
year, for the \i\reek, for the day or for the hour;
or one program may be cOl1.taine,d within the oth.er..

'for' that the.
your efforts-.. nature
. ..
aim may simply be generaleuittire,' but even in
tl'lis, instance you vvill realize that haphazard reading
'- -
is of little va1ll:e, and vvill dra'\v a list of
'books 'to Or you may
specialization be,
.. ,'!"J''':-' ... ... - -', ';. '
"Fo,r'tlle
.to
may to make it
the or the apprecia-
tion of painting- alld a critical l<:l1.o"\tvledge of the.
great masters.
Having thus defitled your efforts for the year,
so' that yOll kno\v exactly tl1.-e goal to which you
are l1.eading, you niay conle directly to a plan for
the week. Y au may decide that two or tllree hours
sho1.1Id be giverl to your study or improvement Oil.
l\1onday, Tuesday, Thursday and Friday evenings;
or you may, if you think ,you have the "\viII-power,
allow for something "turning up" on one of tl1.ose
nights,a.nd simply set aside any four a
week.. I insert the phrase "if you think you have
the vJ"ill-power" because this more elastic plan
paradoxically, require more vvill-power than the
nlore rigid program. On Monday and Tuesday
something is likely to turn, up-you may be tempted
to go to a moving picture, some friend may suggest
bridge-and knowing that your program does not
tie you down to Monday or Tues<lay, you may
accede; bt.lt you will find yourself paying for it
heavily at the end of the week; and four evenings
in..... .. if. they include Saturday
evening, may strain your Will-power to the breaking
point.. Moreover, in making engagements ahead
you are likely to yourself..
"I suppose I could learn it just as well at home
as by going to night-school,'" you have' often heard
people say, "but I' find that I can't study at home."
Here is proof tlt.at home-study. requires more will....:
power than going to night-school; yet night.... school
THE WAY TO VvILL-POWER 125
is far luore rigid, both ill. its evenings week, and
in. its hours during those evenings, than home-study.
could possibly be.. It is precisely because of this
rigidity that night-school is easier to attend..
But a further element must' also be admitted..
It is much easier to .. "I'n1 sq.E,r-Y;
.'
I'd to But I have to gGl<to niaht-school ".
.. .... _. ' ';: ....-..t.;;.:.
S,

skeptical.. For some reason he may be unable to
see th.at an obligation to yourself is quite as sacred
as an obligation to otl1.ers.. once he finds that
your, is elastic, your case is doomed=
Study, if you must, on evenings when others would
like to. have ... you go out, but ,not when he would..
This is his .. attitude; and it is going to take all
your resources of tact to .meet it.... Moreover, tIle
..... ._- -"
truth .mustbe told: yv;e ..
. . '. C".,,' . ';.D .. .c'>. :" . .. . ..,: :.;..::.:.. ':+":"" 1< -e"
Ol;1T\ ",7l1e are seeking self-im-:
.. 'Ye' .
..;.":.:,"",,.;' :.' .... ,' ,-', ','. ",- , :..- .'," ..;, .. F, . ... ...
our' real reason?!..
.. .
'Your first' tendency, doubtless, especially in
drawing' up any program of work or of little
tl'lings to do in a single night, will be to plan too
much. Y eu will find yourseI f greatly underestim?\.t-
ing the tin1e it tak'es you to perform a particular
task, or greatlyoverestimatil1.g the number of
tasks you can performo A .progratP is valuable if
for flO other reason than that it brings out, as noth-
ing else could, how you have been frittering away
your time before you started to formulate programso
Even if you do not live up to your schedule, you
vvill probably .getmore \7\Tork done tIlan you would
without oneo
You
you will not to live
. -.It much easier for ...the
modestly and to
/
XIV
THE DAILY CHALLENGE
TILL-POWER, in its higl1.est is
eiated \vitl1. tl1.e N apoleol1s, the Robert Bruces,
and the Lutllerso \JVe. COnl1.ect it either with great
historic 'characters, 'rnen of actio!1. \;v'ho have shaken
the world, or with tl1.e noble arld almost incredible
s9-crifices of tlteChristian m.artyrs..
in the' heroic sense is not dead. If
alll)0.one 'had... eyer thought so, must have' stopped
believing so iu,.:lQJ4; ,>Millions of. men ,vent fortll.
die for. their faith, and seven' milliol1. dead 011-
tIl.e battlefield seven million cru$hing ansv;ers to
tIle,. cynic. If n"1en "vvil1 SllOW such ,viII for their.
tIley will Sho"'\lv.even more for their religious
faith.' Lest 'yve f9rg,et the sacrifices of a forn1er
age;' let me a few extracts from Taine's
- account" taken from NioaillesJ, Fox, Neal, and other
s.ources:
'. 'CIl th d M '1 th h
- .tu ree j'ears, un er ary, neary ree un--
dred persorls,. nlen, vvomen, old and young, some all
127
but children, allowed themselves to be burned alive
rather than abjure. .. .. .. 'Noone will be crowned,'
said one. of them, 'but they \vho fight like men;
and he who, endures to the end shall be saved.. '
Doctor Rogers "\vas first, in presence of his
,vife and ten- cl1.ildren, one at the breast.. He had
not been told beforehand, and vvas sleeping soundly.
The wife of the- keeper of Newgate woke him, and
told him that he n1.ust burrl that day.. 'Then,' said
l1.e, need not truss my points.' In the midst of
the flames he did not seem to suffer.. 'His childrel1:
stood bYCOllsoling him, in sucl1.a _that he
looked as if they were conducting him to a
marrIage.. ' e Qj .. Tl1.omas Tomkins, a weaver of
Shoreditch, being by Bishop Bonner if he
could stand tl'1e fire ,veIl, bade hinl try it.. 'Bonner
took Tomkins by tl1.e fingers, all:d held his hand
directly over the flame,' to terri fy him.. But 'he
never s11rank, till tl'le veins _and the sinews burst,
and the water (blood) did spirt in Mr.. Harpsfield's
face.' Bishop Hooper was burned tl1ree times over r
in a small fire of. green "\7\Tood. There was too little
wood, and the Wil1.d turned aside tIle slnoke.. He
cried out, 'For God's lo"'ve, good people, let me
have niore fire.' His legs and thighs were roasted;
one of his l1.ands fell off before he expired; he
THE WAY TO \iVILL-POWER 129
endured this three-quarters of a.ll hour; before him
in a box \\ras his pardon, on condition that he would
retract.. "
S
. e
do not know w11at part of the astounding achleve-
ments of Napoleon to assign to his \iVill and what
part to the ,intellect which was its servant.. The
fortitude' of was a ,fortitude made
possible by tIle will alone..
But however inspiring may be such examples,
we must guard against connecting our conception
0, will-power too closely with them. I f we place
our conception of too l1.igh, "\ve are in
'danger' offailin'g to rec'ognize it -in its humbler
fotl;TIs.. The opportunity seldom comes when the
will is put to such a test, or anything remotely
approaching such a test..
Tll.e \vriters of the magazine advertisements for
the \ill-powercourses concei"re a l"llan \vill-
power as a man WIlD "gets on," an E. He Harri-
man or a J.. P .. Morgan, a dominant pers011ality,
w,ho must assume leadersl1.ip and power; 'who be.nds
others to his will, or breaks them if they will not
, bend; who gets to his goal, if need be, over dead
bodies, but who gets to his goal" Tllis is an elevat-
130 THE WAY TO WILL-PO\7\lER
ing conception, but the;eaverage man of talent is apt
to find it a trifle unreal and' beside the POil1t after
l1.e 11.as finished Lesson One that evening al'1d gone
to ,vvark;: the next day.. He is resolved to mow down
all opp,osition, but vJhen he gets to the office he
finds no opposition.. Everyboqy says Good 1vlorn-
ing, pleasantly, thougl1. a few vaguely \vl1Y
he: has set Iris ja.w so tight!)T.. If .lie is a bookkeeper,
he goes to his ledger and finds the same colulJlns
" " .,:-:.- _ '. _ ...
o -
to

ca,;n'()nly, use will--povvTer on p'ersons...,But if he is
..
sales clerk he cannot the customers:
lIe must be -pleasant and tactful. He might tell
the floor-\valker what he really thought of him, and
that might give satisfaction to tI1.e soul, but it w'ould
be of doubtful value in getting ahead in- business..
_An.d even a bank or a railroad president meets day
after day the SalTI.e routine problems, 'marlY 'of vvhich
involve heavy responsibility, shrewd and
judgment, and sometimes a good deal of thought,
but (,harqly will-povver..
Th'e need for\vill-po"\7ver thus seelns a - distant
arises one day in a hundred,
or one itt a thousand.. In some people seem
Ii
modern journey from the incubator to the crema-
toriunl is taken in laps of twenty-four' hours each;
eacl1. divided sharply fronl. the other; each with its
routine much like the other; but each with its own
challenge. And our way of nleeting that challenge
from day to day is our way.of meeting the whole
challenge of life. Every day ,ve are faced with a
challenge, sometimes large', often small, but it is
alvvays tl1ere if we but face it. We do not have
to create it.. We do not have to do unnecessary
th,ings. And if ,rve meet it,
which we receive a return and sometimes a hand-
.......
SOlne one . "Vvll.ether our house burn down or not.

of whether have met this challenge
in the
you evaded or' postponed it,
...........";i11 be a sense of guilt. It may be ever so
but it will al"\iVays be there', an uneasiness, like
dirt in a corner.
I have already mentioned the little daily duties
that most of us put off or leave undone. But
there are duties of a more serious sort, duties that
require one, 11.0t only to overcome laziness but to
SUrlTIOunt Illara! fear. Principal among these are
unpleasant il1terviews..
THE VIAY TO 133
Let us take tl1.e very practical matter of :lsking
fora raise. Y au think you are worth lTIOre money"
Y au know you are. Yau l1.ave al-vvays kno.\vn it.
Yau have been ,vaitil1g longenougl'l' for the boss
to find it out, but tl1.e boss has proved either singu-
larly stupid or singularly selfish, and you have
determined either to enlighten him or to uplift him
spiritually. Your mind is fully made up.
But tl1.ough your mind was made up a week ago,
you haven't asked l1.im yet because on one day you
l1.ada mountain of work that had to be
out of th-e way, and on the next you had been out
late' the night before and didn't feel equal to .e:tn
and on the next you didn't. look very
neat, and on tl1.e next you were waiting for some
111i$take of yours to "bl0'Y over," and on the next .;
the boss wasn't in a good mood. In fact,

the- courage. .

And yet to put off such an interview, when you
have fully determined that it must be had, is like
- putting off getting up in the morning, or putting
",
off diving into cold ,vater when you have gone down
for a swim. The longer you stand on the diving
board the- colder the water seems to get, the more
terrifying becomes. the height at which you are
134 TI-IE VlAy'r TO WILL-POvVER'
standil1.g froni it. There is a psycl-lological t11eory
that emotion follows actiOl1., and' not acti'on emotion;
that you do not run away fronl a bear 'because a
fear seizes you, but that fear seizes you bec.ause
you are running' a\vay. \iVhate,.rer of truth there
n1.ay be irl tl1.is, it is certainly true that though you
lTI3..y hesitate because you fear to dive, also
to dive because and the like applies
to IntervIewing the boss for all. increase.
Here again I do 11.0t S'Llggest inflexibility. It is
sometinies better to do a certain thing in the future;

fixing a defil1.ite time.

Another challenge "\vhicl1 is apt to occur once or
twice on 'almost any day is tl1.e l'1ecessity for pro-
nouncing tha,t most difficult of all ,lords for .tl1.e
tOl1gue-'-No.. A friend V\Tho has drifted fr01TI one
job to anotl'1er, finally becomes a salesman for oil
stocl<, and wants you to "invest" in it; another',
Wal1.ts to' borrovv money; anothe'r \vants you to. go
into partl1.ership \7\Tith him; another wants yOtl to
- spend witl1. l1.ilnan evening that you have set aside
for study; another offers you adr7ink after you
have signed the pledge.
profession_a! begga.. r" -whom you
.. ...
to be a an idler and
a little a-sks better
silver ..... ....
THE WAY TO 'NILL-POWER 135
, '
have to
To to a
answer you \vould like to give in each case
is No.. Yet you fear to' give offense; you fear to
jeop'ardize your friendship; you fear a nasty
retort; you fear having to defend your position;
:you fear Often by refusing "Vvith-
out unkindness, but \vith firmness and candor and
tact, you can reduce, giving offense to a mil1.imum,
but it ,is idle to imagine that you c'an altogether
avoid it. TIl-at part vvl1.icl1. is altogether unavoidable:
must h.e faced courageousl)r. A, man cannot respect,
'himself if he grants a request or give's n1.oney to a
beggar not because l1.e. belie'v'es the r'equest is fair,
or to relieve the beggar's distress, bl.lt simply because
lie cannot look his supplicant in the., eye 'and tell
rlim 'No.' Arid the for
p0 r, .. is al ays th .. ts
.. ,'" ".
-to be broken al1.d of good habits to be forlned. As
a niere specific example" a cold shower every
SECOND AND THIRD WINDS
E. have. dealt \vith the l1.umbler tasks.. We
come no,v to tl'le tasks that are not so
"YV.e have considered how Yife may perform
our routine duties. But men of a. higher stamp,
men V\Tith an aim in life, men who want to mean
something, are not satisfied with merely perform-
ing routine duties. TI1.ey aspire to something
nobler and more soul-stirring" Not content with
fulfilling the duties the world lays upon, them, tl1ey
want to lay UpOl1 themselves. duties to
haps, with
l
Bernard Sha"v, they feel that the'true
joy in life is "the being used for a purpose recog-
. 'nized by yourself as a mighty. one; the being
thoroughly Viforn out ,before yoU are thrown on
the' sc.rap.;.heap; the being a force of N instead
of a feverish,. selfisl1. little clod of ailments and
grievances, complaining that the world will not
devote itself tdmaking you happy."
An ideal like. that in itself will a man, ap.d
136
THE V\Tl\.Y TO WILL-POWER 137
give part of the stt'*ength l1eeded. for its OWl1,
realizatiol1. But it carries.. with it a great danger..
..

and gorgeous intentions whose date' for fulfil1
111
ent

i s ..
.. Asa prelin1.inary antidote for such a danger, I
suggest these lines of Goethe:
Lose this day loitering-'twill be the story
Tonlorrow-and the .more' dilatory.
Then indecIsion brings its own dela,ys
And days are lost lamenting over days-..
Are yOtl in earnest? Seize .
\Vhat )rOll can do, or
.. .
0111y en,gage, and then the lnind grows
B
What Goethe saw so povvetful1)r, Wil1iCln:l..
saw later, and elaborated the .idea in a theory which
. ,goes beyond even this. That theory appeared in all
essay called "Th.e Energies of Men.'' In all
El1.g1ish and American literature there is notl'1ing
of its short length-a mere thirty-five pages-so
calculated to. inspire- a man vvith a passion for work..
It is published in his (Long-
138 THE W.i\Y.TO WILL-POVvER
mo.,ns, Greetl) and separately. By all ITlearlS, read
,it.. Read it, if you can, before your- next n1eal.. If
it does 11.0t il1spire you Wit!l a passion t,o go out
imn1.ediately al1.ddo sOn1.etlling large glorious,
37"011 are pr,obably not 11ormal.
Every sel1tence and illustration ,of tl'lat essay is
so indispensable al1d full of meaning, that I can-
110t hope to give i you any summary, or the. "gist"
of it" I can, ho"\vever, gi,re- a pren1.onition of
what it is 'about, and tIl-is itself can best be done,
for the n1.0st part, in James's o\vn words:
"Everyone knows "\7v11at it i$," l1.e says, "to sta.rt
a piece of \7Vork, eitl1eli irltellectual or. muscular,
-feeling stale" And evetybody kno"t'lIS \7Vhat it is to
'warm to his job. The process ,of warming up
gets particularly striking . In the
kno'\vn as 'second ,vind.' On usual occasions \7\,re
n1.al-cea practice p'f as S001'1
as we meet the first effective- layer .( so to call it)
of fatigue-. We h-ave then \vallced, played, or
w'orl-ced 'enough,' so we desist.. That aluount of
fatigue is an efficacious obstructi0l!- on this side of
v\rl1.ich our usual- life is cast. But' if all. unusual
to .. press .
__
..
THE WAY TO \iVILL-POvV:EF- 139
al1d ,ve are fresher
"\Ticlel1.tly tapped a level of ne\v energy, lTlaslced
Ul1til then by the fatigue-obstacle usually obeyecl..

..
activity the nllenomenon as ,veIl aspllysicaI,
...

al"ld power that
1
we never dreamed. ourselves to
O'\Vl1.,-SOUrces of strength l1abitually not taxed at
.. .
all, .. because never push through tIle

obstruction, never those early critical pointso
n
"
For many years lIpan
en'on of second wind; trying to find a physiological
theory.. It is evident, he decided, that our organ-
ism llas "stored-up of energy tliat are
ordinarily not called upon, but that may be called
upon: deeper and deeper strata of combus,tible or
explosible material. repairing, themselves by
'rest .as well as do the superficial strata,,"
He, compares our el1.ergy-budget to our nutritive
budgeto. "Physiologists say that a man is in '"nutri-
ti,re' equilibrium' when' day after day he neitI1er
gains nor loses vveigl1t.. But the odd tIling is that
this condition may obt.airl on astonishingly different
amounts of food. Take a man in nutritive equili-
If
140 THE WAY TO WII-4L-PO\VE'R
brium, and systematically or lessen his
rations. In the first case l1e will begin to. gain
in the second case to lose it. The change
vlill be greatest on the first day, less on tI1.e second,
still less on the' third; and. so on, till he has gained
all that he will gain, or lost all that he will lose, on
that altered diet. He is now in nutritive-equilibrium
again, but vvith a new ""veight; and this' neither
lessens nor increases because l"lis various combusc=
tion-processes have adjusted themselves to the
changed dietary. .. ..
"Just so one can _ in vv-hat I call 'effie-
. ..
. ....
. asto.nishingly different quantities of work, no
matter In what may be measured..

"Of course," he admits, "there are limits: the
trees don't gro"v into the .. But the very
same in.dividual, pushing his energies to their
extreme, n1ay in a vast number of cases keep the
pace up day after day, and find no 'reaction' of a
bad sort, so long as decent hygienic conditions are
preserved.. "
These a:re astonishing staten1ents; approaching,
THE WAY' TO WILL-POWER 141
if true, a veritable revelation.. But James goes on
to illustrate the truth of his statement on a whole-
sale scale:
"Country people and city people, as a classjr illus-
trate this difference.. The rapid rate of life, the
number of decisions in an hour, the many things
to keep account of, in a busy city man's or woman's
life, seemrnonstrous to a country' brother.. He
doesn't see how we live,/at all.. A day in New York
or Chicago fills hiin with terror. The danger and
noise make it appear like a permanent earthquake.
..
have ca
t1
g-ht .... P11
1
:;e-pea

avocation, wllatever he will

in the country.. 0 :_,
,. ....,,'" '1"<';.. !,-:':. j":4K,,;
- "The transformation, more'over, is a chronic one:
the .. energy: becomes. permanent"".
.. ... ..
How are we to produce these marvellous results ?
How are \ve to draw on our vast unused powers
and make them available? How are we to keep
ourselves going at the highest efficient speed on
all six cylinders, irlstead of idling along, knocking
1M
142 THE W A-Y TO WILL-POWER'
on 01le, losing compression on another, and missing
01'1 three?
In the instance of the country folk in the city,
the stimuli of those who successfully - respol1.d and
undergo tIle transformation, are, in James's words,
"the example of others, and and
contagion." Tl1.ere is also duty.. "The--duties of
ne"v offices of trust are constantly producing this
effect on the -l1.uman beings appointe'd to them.. "
But stimuli than these for bring-
ing out our latent re'sources.. I cannot quote all
the inspiring exalnples which Jalnes cites to sho"\tv
tl1e diverse Vvays in which tl'le ha1le been
'drawn on, but I can suml1.'1arize the "stimuli" whicl1
he credits for thenl.. TIley include, in addition to
those just m,el1.tioned: ideas, efforts,
)o-ve, q,nger, religious crises, lO"'itTe-crises" iridigncation-
crises, despair in son1e cases, tl1.eS'Llppression of
"feartl1ought," whicl1 is the "self-suggestiono in-
feriority" (phrases l1.eborrows from Horace
Fletcl1.er), systelnatic ascetisln, "beginning witl1. easy'
tasks, 'passing- to harder ones, and exercising day
by day.. "
opener of
The diffi-
is to use it, to make the effort ,rvruch th-e
word 'volition" implies. It is notorious that
a single successful effort of moral volition, sucl1.
as 0 rper-
,courageous act, vvill lnan
.. ... ..... ...
..
/ ' -.
will him a lie,\! f 'Ill. the act
of ul1.corking the which I had
brought hotTIe to get drunlc said a ina11 to
me 'I
, .. ,"di,".',f,';"''-f.t.;;'',l?
There is one stin1.ulus to b'rectking dO\7V"n tIle
James, tl1ougl1. he occasion-
ally appears to get close to it, does not mention... It
is a very iluportant stimulus.. In fact, I ani quite
prepared to cail- it the lTIOst irIlportant of thelTI all..
It is sometimes derivative ; and il1.cludes, in part,
01'1e or two' of the stin1uli already r"eferred to..
StilTIulus is intensity of irptte1rest..
. ..
Interest, excitement, absorptiol1. in tI-Ie pursuit of"
an obj,ect, 11"1ake you forget yourself al1.d your dis-
comforts.. A mal1. who is so tired 01.1t {roin the day
at t11e office tllat he Cal1.not read l1.is on
tlTe sub"\Nay, v\ll1.o brings hOrl1.e SOlne \i\Tork and is
too tired to it after dinl1.er, thOLlg,h fie
144 THE \\1AY TO WILL-POWER
tnakes several attempts and several fresh starts to
"get llis lnind dOWl1 to it," n1.ay none the less turn
to a detective story, and follow the course of its
characters, the clues, the shrewd mental workings
of tl1.e detective, trying to anticipate his deductions
and COllclusions, all with, tlle most intense coneen-
tratiOl1. and the higl1.est relish. He may feel too
worn out mentally to sit l1.ome and read a con-
stllar report on a matter of interest to l1.is business,
'a report contail1.ing no long chains of reasoning nor
a Sil1.g1e subtle statement; yet he will not feel too
tired to dress for the tl1.eatre and. enjoy a Sha\v
comedy to tIle full, "\vith one clever and subtle
epigralTI touchil1g off another like- a package of fire.....
craclters. A
':. ; ,.,'" .. .... ,." - '. ,Ii, 0< ., ..
G' The
;'i.. .. -.' ,','i -, .".;> " ,- ,.'"',, _. . ' " ' .
in each case is a difference
interest..
..... , " ....,.. --:"' .. , ..'.1",.
This prirlciple in the merltal field applies quite
8JS strongly in the physical. A man vvl10 ,yould be
cOf11pletely tired out if he beat a rug for l1is wife,
will play five sets of tel1.nis of an afternoon,
ing ten times as much physicalellergy.. The first
is "v:votk,", tIle secol1.d "play." Every soldier is
familiar with the in1.nlensedifference it makes to
111m vvhether he is drilling 'iVitll or without music:
ill. the first case his step is lighter, his l1.eart is
lighter, his rifle is lighter; \ his fatigue is half gone.
Modern gymnasiums are begil1.ning to recegniz,e this
effect by giving calisthenic exercises to the
lTIusic of a piano or a both drill-
ing and"calisthenics are considered "work," ,and the
principle is still better at dance, where
a man is' quite unconscious (unless his partner is
awkward or unattractive) that he is working.
Every man "\vho has ever adventured upon a-- ball-
I Toam floor can tell you how much better he can
dance, how much more uncontrollable is his craving
'to 9-ance, how muel'"! longer he can dance, \\lith
g(Jod nlusic than vvith bad. A nlan ,vitI go to
a social affair, and he will dance and dance;
he will be there fqr every encore; he "\iVill clap
and clap for more; and ,vhen the affair is over,
and. the :strains of 'ltHome, Sweet Home'" l1:ave
sent hin1. home ill. spite of himself, he will fall into a
taxicab in a state of utter collapse; and when he
, is arrived horne-, will scarcely have the energy to
undress for bed.. He will finally be in bed at any-
where from half past one to half past three in the
morning. Bitt let him stay in tI1.e office till after
\ let him I: l1.alf past one or
.
146 . THE WAY TO \TVILL-POVvER

. . c"
The same principle ,which applies to tIle common
l11an applies to the genius. It may sometimes even
appear to 11.1ake a common marl into a genius. The
histories of philosophy and science abound vlith
examples of thinl<ers apparently apatl1etic and in--
dolent by l1.ature, but "\vho, once upon the scent of
a liewand original theory or discovery, have. bent
themselves to an .and astoundin,g amount
of thinking and reading and e:K.perimenting and fact-
collecting.. ' f

ev:gJl!tig11.. ..;-i"!rld.... and tIle
f Herbert
.. ij)t() .. a ,. grgantic.. system twenty
..
...
finances arid poor healtl'1,-;-these are
.. .. ..
but two examples out of hundreds t11af nlight be
cited.
/
We may consider even the classic examples of
literary indolence-Samuel ]qh!!:9n, let us say. He
. ""\3J\' .'.,
usually wrote only when spurred the need of"
money, and then only enough to,:k,eep l1.imsel and
his wife fron'} starving. After he\' ,\I\las pensioned
by the king, he indulged his natural\sloth by lying
in bed until mid-day and after. Yet "he carried on
his magazine, the Rambler;p twice-a-vv-eek for two
years single-handed ; he produced eigl1.t v;:olumes of
essays, many volumes of biographies, anq his im-
mense Dictionary; and to pay for his 1:;'t1other's
fune"ral, wrote Rasselas in eight nights..
dent
..0'
[l powers of sustained conce

the rarest mortals ca.n enual.

What we fil1d in literature, ,ve find ip. every other
art.. A lazy Michael Angelo could not have built
St. Peters, to saY,l1.othing of his other works.. A
lazy Beethoven or Mozart could not l1ave composeq.
the number of works that these men did.. Franz
Schubert, known for his easy-going Bohemian Ii fe,
always out of funds, always care free, yet managed
to turn out several o"\lertures, eight symphonies, and
six hundred songs!
The catalog doces not end with literature and tIle
arts. Napoleon ,vas such a gourmand for work
..
............... A. Edison is the Inventor
that .. ..,world By either inventing
... ...,.... ...
or it.nproving -the electric -light, the phonograph, the
. telephone, the moving picture, and patenting hun-
dreds of other invetltiol1S, he l1as done mdre- than
.any single man to"' maJee our present-day mat'eriaI
civilization V\rI'laf'it is.' Yet, th,ough now in his
.. .
ever
itf
One could go on and on.
And, how are these prodigious achievements
,Geniuses and artists do not doggedly
dra-g themselves tI1.rough their work$ That is not
tI1.eir ,attitude toward it. They get so much worlc
do"ne because the work they do' is their play, their
're-creation, their
. .'!".,.,._'"
.. e
l:Warming up to one's work," as cited by James,
'a... nd, the manner in which "the mind grows heated,"
as . expressed by Goethe, are simply ways of saying
thougl1. you may broach your work without
interest and without enthusiasm, you are gradually"
-or s1-1ddenly seized by atl interest, Wllich up to a
certain point continues to mount. With the genius
15'0 THE \VAY TO VVI'LL-PO\1VER
this il1.terest is greater than \vith th.e man..
As a man is not 'a
genius because l1.e concentrates more than the ordi-
nary man; he concentrates lTIOre because he. isa
genius. His ideas overflo\rv; they come with such
rapidity, tI1.ey cl1.ang-e the aspects of l1.is subject
V\Tit11- suel1. kaleidoscopic variety, they thro"\v so many
new and il1.teresting and dazzling lights u'pon it
Sl
that
l1.is attention is sustained by following them. The
dullard, no niatter I1.o\iV much of a plt-1gger he may
be, finds the utmost difficulty in sticking to any' train
or thougl1.t of his oWl1.,because his mil1.d-vvill produce
only hackne)Te:d ancl barren ideas, hardly worth
attendil1.g to.
The prbbIelTI, then, in all creative work, is to
seek to sustain tl1.e il1.terest at thehigl1est p i t c h ~
never' allovving it to flag.. As long as the interest
is intense enough, physical and mental fatigue ,viII
11.0t greatly matter.. Eigl1.t times out of nine it is
flagging interest, rather th.an real fatigue, whiGI'!
makes us quit... The phenomenon might be repre-
sented on a chart by tvvo lines or curves, such as
the political economists use for "demal1.d curves"
and "supply curves.. " Starting at the- top, and
slanting dovvnward, (or starting' lOVtl, tl1.ounting
11.igl1.er, and the!'"! curving dovvn again) '\\iould be a
curve or an irregular t1.P and do\vn litle rel)reSe11.til1g
interest. Starting at tI1.e bottOl11 and slalTtil1g up-
vvard, wo,uld be a curve or irregular lil1e represel1t-
ing fatigue.. At some point these two lil1es "Vvould
meet; and that \7Vould be tl1.e point, at wl'1ich
\?\Tould ordinarily quitQO
There are two ways to put off this point. If, by
diversification, by' t-qrningfr01TI one s'Llbject to'
another, by cl1.anging the aspects considered even
of a single st.lbject, you can sustain or increase your
interest, then the' top line represel1.til1.g interest will
not go dovvn to meet tIle line representin.g fatigue;
the fatigue' line will have furfl1.er to 'go, higher to
mount; the point of intersection may be surpris....
inglypostponed.
But if the t\VO lines do meet, you have still a
recourse, if :YOt.t care to use' it. That is your will.
You ;can fight through' the point by sheer effort,
that after a time either tILe upper
line will rise again or the lower fatigue line' will
allovvingy'ou another spell of' achievelnent;-
'and so 011. throughotl1er points' of intersection..
."Heroisnl," said 'V.. T .. Grenfell, for
told tfiat this is a very dangerous
that if pt.lt into practice it vvould lead to
its own and
..... ,'"-'
the greatest of these has always been, and will
always be, this of "overwork."

152 THE WAY TO WILL=POWER
ove.Twork, overstrail1., al1d nervous breakdown.. It
is possible to overdo it; but I am "convinced that "
for the overTwhelming majority of those who read
this, there is not the slightest dan"ge-r of such a
:thing happening.. Most breakdovvns to
overwork do not
XVI
MORAL COURAGE
153
-I MUST extend a few warnings before we part,
and I can do it briefly..
N ever boast to rfriends about

. ey are apt to become cynical and face-
.. -
tious, especiallywhen y,ou have broken some major
: .. :,. , \
or minor resolution in ,a fit of
You want your friends to know of your will-power,
but the best way for them to discover it will be
through your actions, not your words..

Don't, ( 0 Don't) be a prig. A prig is a person
wllo has become vastly well satisfied with himself..
am iCll1
S
of peoples
...
fiegYY'lt:hhlt11self because he easIly sat1sfied..
.He is the little Jack Horner who says, "What a
good boy am I!" A prig's mind
cessesand .on what N'ow true
... _ ' ., ....
, will-power is Perfectly compatible with true humil-
.'ity, and !3- man of true humility dwells on his short-
comings and on what he has failed to accomplish.
The prig is satisfied with himself because in l1.is
own eye he is realizing his ideals; but one of the
reasons for this is simply that his ideals are low
enough to make it easy to realize them.. A man
true humility puts ideal always a little
there ceases to be
forever beating at the doors of his'soul a desire to
do something larger, which he feels and knows he
was meant 'and 'intended to do.. '''-
To ouri admonitions. try to be a
""""""' ....,... _\.J credit to him..
he reads good books.. The man who
is destined to grow criticizes himself because, though
he reads good books, he does not think enough for
himself.. A prig admires himself because he has
given $5 to. the Red Cross.. A tru,e man, in the
same financial' circumstances, may be a little
ashamed of himself because he' has only given $15.
Things of a similar tenor l1.ave been said before..
-"'It is in general more profitable," says Carlyle, "to
'reckon up our defects than to boasto{ . our attain-
ments." And the words of Phillips Brooks are
more thrilling t4e day for any man when
he
He will give in before CQnVinCln
or
argument he is
qy';"
. ..
anci ... ... that ... he: ... ... .'.oi1.e' , ..J
of mere
lack of physical and moral courage"
Arid U!,QE,Ll. courage is t.he, rarest of all the rare
... .. :., .:: '", ,"'. '""._ \'
shown tl1.at
millions have physical courage.. Millions were
willing, to face rifle and cannon, bombardment,
poison gas, liquid fire, and the bayonet; to trust
themselves to flying machines thousands of feet in
air, under the fire of anti-aircraft guns and the
machine guns .of enemy planes; to go into sub-
marines, perhaps to meet horrible death.
';:.. .."h _
The bitter truth, be told:
that many enlisted.,..pr -submitted to the draft on both
sides of' the confliG:t' because they wer'e con-
vinced that they were :helping to save the world,
not be,cause they hadanX"real hatred for the enemy,
not to uphold the right, - ..
the moral courage of "slacker"
.. J, mi'4'f:.' -.;::t't ,,tJ";;';'.. -- ,- ',' --.J; .'+">;::' "" "'01;",-"

""''Perhaps it would be unwise to take' for granted
that the passions of the war have completely cooled,
and possibly many would miss the point if I were
THE WAY TO WILL-POWER 157:
,to discuss this question from the point of view of,
'our own side.. But let us look at it from the. Ger-
man side. The Germans surely had, physical cour-
age. Not all of them shouted "Kamerad," or if
, they did, it is rather strange that it took a. world in
arms more than four years to defeat them.. But
how many had moral courage in Germany? How
marly like Maximilien Harden, to Ii ft their
voices against the dominant German creed, and how
high dared he lift his? Fear of death? No; the,
soldiers faced dea-thbravelYe But feared un
cd
.."n." They dreaded the _ of their
...
fellows
'.

at was needed' in war is needed no less ur-
gently in .peace.. ...,.

. that people do. 'rl1.e ancient Greel<:s:j .

were nota superior race of people, but in the little
city of Athens, in ,a period covering only a few
hundred 'years, .there came' forth. thinkers the splen....
dor of whose fame has. not been paralleled, cer+
, i
, tainly not exceeded, in all the nations of ,0 the world'
in ,all the thousands of yea:rs that have come since
then. Where is the modern triumvirate of philos-
ophers that is greater than Aristotle, Socrates and
- Plato? There may have been a t;1umber' of
Aristotle
was absolute. It applied not only to what he had'
positively said,. but tc? what he omitted to say..
If it 'Yas not in Aristotle., it did. not exist.. When,
in time, a few great spirits began to think for them-,
selves, they face'd a bitter struggJe. &Up-
porting the disc'overy of Copernicus that .the earth
'revolved around the"'sun, and not the sun
the earth, was compelled publicly to.-:;,..repudiate it..
to plead against
....-.t".... ... .. .. .. .. ..... ... ...;..... 0':"i':'-"!"'.. .. .......,...,.. ..
totleG Locke had to write: "Some will not admit
. .
an 0l?inion not authorized by old, who were
then all giants in knowledge. Nothing is to be put
into the treasury of .truth or knowledge, which has
not the stamp of Greece or Rome upon it, and since
their days will scarce allow' that men have been
able to see, think or write."

he does not dare to? One have the
, . _. ..
that brought this flowering. of Greek culture, but
.one of them was this: that thought in Greece was
freee A man could arrive at an opinion on a fun-
damental question different from that of his fel-:
lows without bringing himself into contempt.
a thousand years after Aristotle there were no

.

hurt oneself or a class, no matter l1.oW

_: ': ( .

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