The Thoroughbred

THE THOROUGHBRED

The man who goes on until he can go no further, who reaches the limit of human endurance, and then holds on for another minute, has reached the minute that counts.

It is that last minute, the other side of the breaking point, which marks the thoroughbred. You can find the last minute in the Hundredth Man, in the
Soldier who exclaimed before the battle: “If I fall, I’ll fight on my knees!”

Of all the human qualities that have lip up the somberness of this tragic
Earth, I count this, of being a thoroughbred, the happiest.

It has saved more souls than shrewdness: it has won more battles and more games, and altogether loosed more hard knots in the tangled skein of destiny than any other
virtue

Most people are quitters. They reach the limit and are familiar with the last straw. But the Hundredth Man is a thoroughbred. You cannot corner him. He will not give up. Don’t try to drown him; he will not sink. He cannot find the word fail in his dictionary. He has never learned to whine.

What shall we do with him? There is nothing to do but hand him success. It is just as well to hand him the prize, for he will get it eventually anyway.