Of conditions at Valley Forge, Pennsylvania, a certain Dr. Albigence Waldo wrote: Poor food hard lodging cold weather fatigue nasty clothes nasty cookery vomit half my time smoked out of my senses the devil's in it I can't endure it. A pox on my bad luck. There comes a bowl of beef soup full of burnt leaves and dirt, sickish enough to make a Hector spew away with it boys I'll live like the chameleon upon air!. . . There comes a soldier, his bare feet are seen through his worn-out shoes, his legs nearly naked from the tattered remains of an only pair of stockings, his breaches not sufficient to cover his nakedness, his shirt hanging in strings; his hair disheveled; his face meager. . . . He comes and cries with an air of wretchedness and despair, 'I am sick, my feet lame, my legs are sore, my body covered with this tormenting itch . . . and all the reward I shall get will be "Poor Will is dead!"'
Remind yourself regularly that you are better than you think you are. Successful people are not superhuman. Success does not require a super-intellect. Nor is there anything mystical about success. And success doesn't based on luck. Successful people are just ordinary folks who have developed belief in themselves and what they do. Never - yes, never - sell yourself short.
Fortune is proverbially called changeful, yet her caprice often takes the form of repeating again and again a similar stroke of luck in the same quarter.
Luck generally comes to those who look after-it; and my notion is that it taps, once in a lifetime, at everybody's door, but if industry does not open it luck goes away.