In Thought, Word and Deed.
Stop before even thinking unworthily. Not to entertain in the mind what you would blush to speak or put in writing is an excellent general rule of ethics.
Stop before nourishing a pride of nationality. This is even more unreasonable than the pride of ancestry, for the greatness of the latter may be in some degree inherited, while for the mere accident of birth-place a man is as irresponsible as he is unentitled to plume himself upon historical greatness in the abstract.
Stop, also, before cherishing even a pride of race. This is wholly distinct from the virtue of Patriotism, in its best sense; is opposed to the enlightened spirit of the age; and is one of the narrowest of prejudices.
Stop short of despising public spirit in others, or eliminating it from your own calculations. The most insignificant pot-house politician is of more worldly use than the most gifted misanthrope. No amount of selfish seclusion or isolation can absolve one from his duty of fellowship.
Stop before making butts of others, especially by reason of personal peculiarities for which they are in no wise responsible. The old aphorism about stone-throwing in relation to glass domiciles is always in order; and even a natural-born fool is more to be pitied than ridiculed.
Stop putting in words that which you would not do, or putting in writing that which you would not sign.
Stop, and remember that an ill-considered angry word may, on the breath of hearsay, become a winged seed, from which shall spring a poisonous upas growth, whose deadly influence could not have been dreamed of at its inception.
Stop before falling into apathy, before becoming a do-nothing, through discouragements. “A great mind,” says Lacon, “may change its objects, but it cannot relinquish them; it must have something to pursue. Variety is its relaxation, and amusement its repose.”
Stop short of being painstaking to excess in what you would pass off as improvised. Over-elaboration in this regard may be likened to the dishabille in which a coquette would wish you to think you have surprised her, after spending hours at her toilet.
Stop short of supposing that rascality can be as uniformly logical as honesty. Villains are usually the worst casuists, and rush into greater crimes to avoid less.
Stop, in combating the World, and reflect that by resisting its temptations you master the secret of ultimately possessing its noblest prizes, the respect of your fellows, and the proudest self-respect in having successfully withstood not in order to achieve, but from a sense of moral duty.
Stop, in resisting the allurements of the Flesh, and consider that by subjecting them to the yoke of reason, your capacity for rational fleshly enjoyment is both intensified and prolonged.
Stop, in fighting the Devil (i.e., moral perverseness,) and remember that your victory will be evidence of moral balance on your own part, rather than of faint-heartedness on His Inky Majesty’s. And you may likewise recall with complacency Emerson’s indictment, where he says, “It stands to reason that the Devil is an ass.”
Stop, after having fairly floored the Machiavellian triumvirate, the World, the Flesh and the Devil, and candidly confess that you might have fared worse but for the precepts and injunctions laid down in this little book.