uld attain to the coveted end.
THE VALUE OF A STRONG INTEREST.--Nor are we to look upon these
transitory interests as useless. They come to us not only as a race
heritage, but they impel us to activities which are immediately useful,
or else prepare us for the later battles of life. But even aside from
this important fact it is worth everything just to be interested. For it
is only through the impulsion of interest that we first learn to put
forth effort in any true sense of the word, and interest furnishes the
final foundation upon which volition rests. Without interest the
greatest powers may slumber in us unawakened, and abilities capable of
the highest attainment rest satisfied with commonplace mediocrity. No
one will ever know how many Gladstones and Leibnitzes the world has lost
simply because their interests were never appealed to in such a way as
to start them on the road to achievement. It matters less what the
interest be, so it be not bad, than that there shall be some great
interest to compel endeavor, test the strength of endurance, and lead to
habits of achievement.
4. SELECTION AMONG OUR INTERESTS
I said early in the discussion that interest is selective among our
activities, picking out those which appear to be of the most value to
us. In the same manner there must be a selection among our interests
themselves.
THE MISTAKE OF FOLLOWING TOO MANY INTERESTS.--It is possible for us to
become interested in so many lines of activity that we do none of them
well. This leads to a life so full of hurry and stress that we forget
life in our busy living. Says James with respect to the necessity of
making a choice among our interests:
"With most objects of desire, physical nature restricts our choice to
but one of many represented goods, and even so it is here. I am often
confronted by the necessity of standing by one of my empirical selves
and relinquishing the rest. Not that I would not, if I could, be both
handsome and fat, and well dressed, and a great athlete, and make a
million a year; be a wit, a bon vivant, and a lady-killer, as well as a
philosopher; a philanthropist, statesman, warrior, and African explorer,
as well as a 'tone poet' and saint. But the thing is simply impossible.
The millionaire's work would run counter to the saint's; the bon vivant
and the philosopher and the lady-killer could not well keep house in the
same tenement of clay. Such different characters may conceivably at the
o
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