"No one," I tell myself, "will steal a single day from me unless they can give me something worth that loss. Let my mind focus on itself and grow stronger. Let it stay out of other people's business and avoid work that depends on winning approval. Let me enjoy peace that isn't broken by public drama or private worries." But then I read something inspiring, or see a noble example that fires me up, and I want to rush into the courtrooms. I want to lend my voice to one person, my help to another. I want to try helping someone even if I might fail, or to knock down some arrogant lawyer who's gotten too proud from success he doesn't deserve.
"No one," I say, "that will give me no compensation worth such a loss shall ever rob me of a day. Let my mind be contained within itself and improve itself: let it take no part with other men's affairs, and do nothing which depends on the approval of others: let me enjoy a tranquillity undisturbed by either public or private troubles." But whenever my spirit is roused by reading some brave words, or some noble example spurs me into action, I want to rush into the law courts, to place my voice at one man's disposal, my services at another's, and to try to help him even though I may not succeed, or to quell the pride of some lawyer who is puffed up by ill-deserved success: