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

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

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

So let us begin to examine the budget of the day's time. You say
your day is already full to overflowing. How? You actually spend
in earning your livelihood--how much? Seven hours, on the average?
And in actual sleep, seven? I will add two hours, and be generous.
And I will defy you to account to me on the spur of the moment for