The socially efficient and the intellectually gifted are precisely those who are not content to be ruled, but are ambitious either to rule or to live in an anti-social solitude. A state with a population consisting of nothing but these superior people could not hope to last for a year.

He had conciliated the ignorant multitude with gladiatorial shows, with the erection of public buildings, with largesses, with feasts; he had bound his own followers to him with rewards, his opponents with a show of clemency; he had already rendered slavery familiar to a free state, partly by fear, partly by patience.
[tr. King (1877)]

He had conciliated the ignorant multitude by presents, by monuments, by largesses of food, and by banquets; he had bound his own party to him by rewards, his adversaries by the appearances of clemency. Why need I say much on such a subject? He had already brought a free city, partly by fear, partly by patience, into a habit of slavery.
[tr. Yonge (1903)]

He had won the affections of the ignorant populace by means of entertainments, banquets, largesses, and other public benefactions, while he had bound his immediate followers to him by his liberality, his opponents by an appearance of clemency. In a word, he had so revolutionised public feeling, that partly from fear, and partly from acquiescence, a state which prided itself upon its freedom had become accustomed to subjection.
[ed. Harbottle (1906)]

By shows, buildings, largesses, banquets he had conciliated the ignorant crowd; his own followers he had bound to him by rewards, his adversaries by a show of clemency: in brief, he had already brought to a free community -- partly by fear, partly by endurance -- a habit of servitude.
[tr. Ker (Loeb) (1926)]

He softened up the ignorant masses with games, buildings, gifts and feasts. He bound his followers to himself with rewards, his opponents with the appearance of clemency. Why go on? He brought to a free state acceptance of slavery, partly through fear, partly through familiarity.
[tr. McElduff (2011)]

However, as we have just indicated, brains absorbed in wisdom, or in folly, or, as often happens, in both at once, are but very slowly permeable by the affairs of life. Their own destiny is far from them. There results from such concentrations of mind a passivity which, if it were due to reason, would resemble philosophy . We decline, we descend, we fall, we are even overthrown, and we hardly perceive it. This always ends, it is true, by an awakening, but a tardy one. In the meantime, it seems as though we were neutral in the game which is being played between our good and our ill fortune. We are the stake, yet we look upon the contest with indifference.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]

As we have remarked, things of this world permeate very slowly brains absorbed in wisdom, or mania, or, as often happens, in both at once. Their own destiny is remote from them. The result of such concentrations is a passiveness which, were it of a reasoning nature, would resemble philosophy. Men sink, pass away, drift away, even crumble away without exactly noticing, though this always ends with a re-awakening, but a tardy one. In the meanwhile, it appears as if they are neutral in the game which is being played between their happiness and misery; they are the stakes, and look on at the game with indifference.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]

In general, as we have already suggested, minds absorbed in wisdom or in folly, or in both at once as often happens, are little affected by the vicissitudes of daily life. Their personal destiny is a thing remote from them. Such detachment creates a state of acquiescence which, if it were the outcome of reflection, might be termed philosophical. But they submit to losses and reverses, even to physical decay, without being much aware of them. It is true that in the end there is an awakening, but it is late in coming. In the meantime they stand as it were aloof from the play of personal fortune and misfortune, pawns in a game of which they are detached spectators.
[tr. Denny (1976)]

However, as we have just indicated, brains absorbed in wisdom, in folly, or, as often happens, in both at once, are permeated only slowly by the affairs of life. Their own destiny is far from them. From such concentrations of mind comes a passivity which, if due to reason, would resemble philosophy. We decline, we descend, we fall, we are even overthrown, and we hardly notice it. This always ends, it is true, in an awakening, but a tardy one. In the meantime, we seem neutrals in the game being played between our good and our ill fortune. We are the stake, yet we look on the contest with indifference.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]

However, as we have just suggested, minds engrossed in wisdom or folly , or, as is often the case, in both at the same time, are only very slowly pervious to matters of everyday life. Their own destiny is far removed from them. resulting from this kind of concentration is a passivity, which, if there were any reasoning behind it, would seem philosophical. Such minds go into a decline, they sink, they languish, they even come to grief without really being aware of it. True, this always ends with an awakening, but a belated one. In the meantime it is as if they had no interest in the game that plays out between their happiness and their unhappiness. They who are themselves as stake watch the game with indifference.
[tr. Donougher (2013)]

The vice that is opposite to justice is injustice, of which there are two sorts: the first consists in the actual doing an injury to another; the second, in tamely looking on while he is injured, and not helping and defending him though we are able: for he that injuriously falls on another, whether prompted by rage or other violent passion, does as it were leap at the throat of his companion; and he that refuses to help him when injured, and to ward off the wrong if it lies in his power, is as plainly guilty of baseness and and injustice as though he had deserted his father, his friends, or his native country.
[tr. Cockman (1699)]

There are two kinds of injustice: Of the one, they are guilty who do an injury; of the other, they who, if they are able, do not defend those from injury to whom it is offered. For he who urged on by anger, or some violent passion, attempts to injure any man, lifts his hand against his brother' and he who interferes not to resist or repel the attempt, is as guilty as if he had deserted his parents, his friends, or his country.
[tr. McCartney (1798)]

But there are two kinds of injustice; the first of those who offer an injury, the second of those who have in their power to avert an injury from those to whom it is offered, and yet do it not. For if a man, prompted either by anger or any sudden perturbation, unjustly assaults another man, such a one seems as it were to lay violent hands on one's ally; and the man who does not repel or withstand the injury, if he can, is as much to blame as if he deserted the cause of his parents, his friends, or his country.
[tr. Edmonds (1865)]

Of injustice there are two kinds, -- one, that of those who inflict injury; the other, that of those who do not, if they can, repel injury from those on whom it is inflicted. Moreover, he who, moved by anger or by some disturbance of mind, makes an unjust assault on any person, is as one who lays violent hands on a casual companion; while he who does not, if he can, ward off or resist the injury offered to another, is as much in fault as if he were to desert his parents, or his friends, or his country.
[tr. Peabody (1883)]

There are two kinds of injustice: the positive injustice of the aggressor, and the negative injustice of neglecting to defend those who are wronged. To attack a man unjustly under the influence of anger or some other passion is to lay hands upon a comrade; not to defend the oppressed and shield them from injustice, is as great a crime as to desert our parents, friends, or country.
[tr. Gardiner (1899)]

There are two classifications of injustice. One part includes those who act unjustly. The other part includes men who, even if they have the power to do so, fail to protect from abuse those people against whom other men commit violence. The man who unjustly does harm to someone else, either in anger or because some other passion arounds him, acts as if he were striking a companion. But the man who does not avert an act of violence, or offer resistance if he has the power, is just as much at fault as if he betrayed his parents, or friends, or his fatherland.
[tr. Edinger (1974)]

"Keep on going and the chances are you will stumble on something, perhaps when you are least expecting it. I have never heard of anyone stumbling on something sitting down."

Accomplishment has been an accident as a rule. Nobody ever stumbled while he was standing still. You only stumble when you are moving. So we always had it a rule in our organization when we lacked intelligence we speeded up motion, because the chances of stumbling infinitely increased.
"250 at Luncheon Honor Kettering," New York Times (1936-11-11)

Nobody ever found anything while sitting down. So, Q.E.D., don't be afraid to stumble.
“Don’t Be Afraid to Stumble,” The Rotarian (1952-01)

Not he only that committeth, but he also that omitteth something, is oftentimes unjust.
[tr. Casaubon (1634), 9.4]

Omissions no less than Commissions, are oftentimes Branches of Injustice.
[tr. Collier (1701)]

Men are often unjust by omissions, as well as by actions.
[tr. Hutcheson/Moor (1742)]

A man is as often guilty of injustice by omitting to do what he ought, as by doing what he ought not to do.
[tr. Graves (1792), 9.4]

He often acts unjustly who does not do a certain thing; not only he who does a certain thing.
[tr. Long (1862)]

Omissions no less than commission are oftentimes part of injustice.
[tr. Collier/Zimmern (1887)]

Wrong comes often of not doing as well as doing.
[tr. Rendall (1898)]

Men are often unjust by omissions as well as by actions.
[tr. Hutcheson/Chrystal (1902)]

There is often an injustice of omission as well as of commission.
[tr. Haines (Loeb) (1916)]

Often he who omits an act does injustice, not only he who commits an act.
[tr. Farquharson (1944)]

A person often acts unjustly by what he fails to do, and not only by what he does.
[tr. Hard (1997 ed., 2011 ed.)]

And you can also commit injustice by doing nothing.
[tr. Hays (2003)]

There can often be wrongs of omission as well as commission.
[tr. Hammond (2006)]

Very often an unjust act is done by not doing something, not only by doing something.
[tr. Needleman/Piazza (2008)]

One may often injure by omission, not only by action.
[ed. Taplin (2016)]

Therefore to him that knoweth to do good, and doeth it not, to him it is sin.
[KJV (1611)]

Everyone who knows what is the right thing to do and doesn't do it commits a sin.
[JB (1966)]

So then, if we do not do the good we know we should do, we are guilty of sin.
[GNT (1976)]

Everyone who knows what is the right thing to do and does not do it commits a sin.
[NJB (1985)]

It is a sin when someone knows the right thing to do and doesn’t do it.
[CEB (2011)]

If anyone, then, knows the good they ought to do and doesn't do it, it is sin for them.
[NIV (2011 ed.)]

For the risk attending want of success is not to be compared with that of neglecting the attempt; the former is attended with the loss of a little human labour, the latter with that of an immense benefit. For these and other reasons, it appears to us that there is abundant ground to hope, and to induce not only those who are sanguine to make experiment, but even those who are cautious and sober to give their assent.
[tr. Wood (1831)]

For it is not a case where there is an equal risk in not trying and not succeeding; since in the former instance we risk a huge advantage; in the latter a little human labour is thrown away. But from what has been said, and also from what has not been said, it seems to us that there is abundant ground of hope, not only to justify a stout-hearted man in trying, but even a prodent and sober man in believing.
[tr. Johnson (1859)]

For the danger of not trying and the danger of not succeeding are not equal, since the former risks the loss of great good, the latter of a little human effort. But from what we have said and from other things which we have not said, it has seemed to us that we have abundance of hope, whether we are men who press forward to meet new experiences, or whether we are careful and slow to believe.
[tr. Silverthorne (2000) "The Great Renewal"]

The loss that may come from not trying is much greater than what may come from trying and not succeeding: by not trying we throw away the chance of an immense good; by not succeeding we only incur the loss of a little human labour. But from what I have said (and from some things that I haven’t said) it seems to me that there is more than enough hope not only to get a vigorous man to try but also to make a sober-minded and wise man believe that he will succeed.
[tr. Bennett (2017)]