Mistakes are a fact of life. It’s the response to the error that counts.
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Mistakes are a fact of life. It’s the response to the error that counts.
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Mistakes are a fact of life. It is the response to error that counts.
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Hidden talent counts for nothing.
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Mistakes are a fact of life. It is the response to the error that counts.
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The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.
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Mistakes are a fact of life. It is the response to error that counts.
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Mistakes are a fact of life. It is the response to the error that counts.
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It is not the critic that counts not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or the doer of deeds could have them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the Arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood who strives valiantly who errs and comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming but he who does actually strive to do the deed who knows the great devotion who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at the best, knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails while daring greatly, knows that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls, who know neither victory nor defeat.
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It is what we learn after we think we know it all, that counts.
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Reality is a prison, where one vegetates and always will. All the rest --thought, action --is just a pastime, mental or physical. What counts then, is to come to grips with reality. The rest can go.
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We must abandon completely the naive faith that school automatically liberates the mind and serves the cause of human progress; in fact, we kn...
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It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again. Because there is no effort without error and shortcomings, he who knows the great devotion, who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at the best knows in the end the high achievement of triumph and who at worst, if he fails while daring greatly, knows his place shall never be with those timid and cold souls who know neither victory nor defeat'.
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People who are too concerned with how well they are doing will be less successful and feel less competent than those who focus on the task itself... Some psychologists call it a conflict between ego-orientation, or between extrinsic and intrinsic motivation... but in all cases, what counts is whether attention is turned away from the task at hand and focused on the self and its future rewards, or whether it is instead trained on the task itself. The latter attitude seems the more fruitful.
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It is not the critic who counts. Not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause. Who, at the best, knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.
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It is what you learn after you know it all that counts.
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Beginnings are usually scary, endings are usually sad, but it's what's in the middle that counts. You just have to give hope a chance to float up.
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Beginnings are usually scary and endings are usually sad, but it's the middle that counts. You have to remember this when you find yourself at the beginning. Just give hope a chance to float up, and it will, too.
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Nowadays nothing but money counts: a fortune brings honors, friendships; the poor man everywhere lies low.
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What counts is not necessarily the size of the dog in the fight - it's the size of the fight in the dog.
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Men should be careful lest they cause women to weep, for God counts their tears.
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Every little thing counts in a crisis.
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The true courage of civilized nations is readiness for sacrifice in the service of the state, so that the individual counts as only one amongst many. The important thing here is not personal mettle but aligning oneself with the universal.
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It is not the hours we put in on the job, it is what we put into the hours that counts.
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I am delighted to have you play football. I believe in rough, manly sports. But I do not believe in them if they degenerate into the sole end of any one's existence. I don't want you to sacrifice standing well in your studies to any over-athleticism and I need not tell you that character counts for a great deal more than either intellect or body in winning success in life. Athletic proficiency is a mighty good servant, and like so many other good servants, a mighty bad master.
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Neither the entrepreneurs nor the farmers nor the capitalists determine what has to be produced. The consumers do that. If a businessman does not strictly obey the orders of the public as they are conveyed to him by the structure of market prices, he suffers losses, he goes bankrupt, and is thus removed from his eminent position at the helm. Other men who did better in satisfying the demand of the consumers replace him. The consumers patronize those shops in which they can buy what they want at the cheapest price. Their buying and their abstention from buying decides who should own and run the plants and the farms. They make poor people rich and rich people poor. They determine precisely what should be produced, in what quality, and in what quantities. They are merciless bosses, full of whims and fancies, changeable and unpredictable. For them nothing counts other than their own satisfaction. They do not care a whit for past merit and vested interests. If something is offered to them that they like better or that is cheaper, they desert their old purveyors. In their capacity as buyers and consumers they are hard-hearted and callous, without consideration for other people.
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Life is filigree work. What is written clearly is not worth much, it's the transparency that counts.
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It is not what they take away from you that counts. It's what you do with what you have left.
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Nothing ever gets anywhere. The earth keeps turning round and round and gets nowhere. The moment is the only thing that counts.
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The gentle serpent, green in the mulberry bush, Riots with his tongue through the hush— Sentinel of the grave who counts us all!
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