He had slipped, climbed, rolled, searched, walked, persevered, that is all. Such is the secret of all triumphs.
[Il avait glissé, grimpé, roulé, cherché, marché, persévéré, voilà tout. Secret de tous les triomphes.]
Victor Hugo (1802–1885) French writer, journalist, human rights activist, politician
The Man Who Laughs [L’Homme qui rit; The Laughing Man; By Order of the King], Part 1, Book 3, ch. 1 (1.3.1) (1869) [tr. Unknown, Authorized (1871)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Other translations:He had slipped, climbed, rolled, searched, walked, persevered, -- that is all; that is the secret of all triumphs.
[tr. Unknown (1869)]He had slipped, climbed, rolled, sought, walked, persevered, that was all. The secret of all triumphs.
[tr. Hapgood (1888)]He had slipped, climbed, rolled, searched, walked, persevered, that was all. The secret of all triumphs.
[tr. Phillips (1894)]He had slid, climbed, rolled, sought, walked, persevered, that's all. Secret of all triumphs.
[tr. Lavelle (2003)]
Quotations about:
doggedness
Note not all quotations have been tagged, so Search may find additional quotes on this topic.
The last quality, perseverance, I particularly respect: it is the very hinge of all virtues. — On looking over the world, the cause of nine parts in ten of the lamentable failures which occur in men’s undertakings & darken and degrade so much of their history, lies not in the want of talents or the will to use them, but in the vacillating and desultory mode of using them — in flying from object to object, in starting away at each little disgust, and thus applying the force which might conquer any one difficulty to a series of difficulties so large that no human force can conquer them.
The smallest brook on earth, by continual running, has hollowed out for itself a considerable valley to flow in: the wildest tempest, by its occasional raging, over-turns a few cottages, uproots a few trees, and leaves after a short space no mark behind it. Commend me therefore to the Dutch virtue of perseverance! Without it all the rest are little better than fairy gold, which glitters in your purse, but when taken to the market proves to be — slate or cinders.Thomas Carlyle (1795–1881) Scottish essayist and historian
Letter (1822-03-15) to John Carlyle
(Source)
Writing to his brother.
