Originally Posted by Saba Arif

Precis Paragraph 04

It is not luck but labour that makes men. Luck says an American writer, is ever waiting for something to turn up: labour with keen eye and strong will always turns up something. Luck lies in bed and wishes the postman would bring him news of a legacy; labour turns out at six and with busy pen and ringing hammer lays the foundation of a competence. Luck whines; labour watches. Luck relies on chance; labour on character. Luck slips downwards to self-indulgence; labour strides upwards and aspires to independence. The conviction, therefore, is extending that diligence is the mother of good luck: in other words, that a man’s success in life will be proportionate to his efforts, to his industry, to his attention to small things.(126 words)