Beware of endeavoring to become a great man in a hurry. One such

“Beware of endeavoring to become a great man in a hurry. One such attempt in ten thousand may succeed. These are fearful odds.” — Benjamin Disraeli

In these words, Benjamin Disraeli, the statesman, orator, and philosopher of ambition, speaks as one who knew both the hunger for greatness and the cost of its pursuit. His counsel is a warning wrapped in wisdom — a reminder that greatness is not born of haste but of time, patience, and endurance. When he says, “Beware of endeavoring to become a great man in a hurry,” he speaks against the feverish desire that consumes so many souls — the thirst for glory without the labor of growth. For true greatness is like an oak: it rises not overnight, but through seasons of storm and sunlight, through roots deepened by struggle.

Disraeli himself was no stranger to ambition. Born an outsider in English society — a man of Jewish heritage in a world of privilege — he climbed through ridicule, failure, and poverty to become the Prime Minister of Britain. He saw many who, impatient for power, burned their lives in the fires of pride. Yet he endured, not by rushing, but by mastering the long art of perseverance. He understood that haste is the enemy of wisdom, and that those who seek greatness without foundation build their towers upon sand. Thus he warned: “One such attempt in ten thousand may succeed. These are fearful odds.” The odds, indeed, are terrible — for speed may win applause for a moment, but it rarely wins immortality.

The ancients, too, spoke this truth in their own tongues. The philosopher Seneca taught that “nothing noble is made in haste,” and Aesop’s fable of the tortoise and the hare endures because it mirrors the laws of life itself. The river that rushes loud and fast cuts shallow paths, but the one that flows steadily carves canyons. So it is with the spirit of man: the one who would be great must learn to walk before he runs, to endure before he commands, to build strength in silence before he stands in light. The hurried man may dazzle the world briefly, but the patient one shapes destiny.

History offers many examples of those who ignored this counsel — and paid the price. Consider Napoleon Bonaparte, whose meteoric rise from obscurity to emperor dazzled Europe. In little more than a decade, he conquered kingdoms, crowned himself with glory, and sought to shape the world by force of will. Yet his ambition outran his wisdom. He built his empire faster than it could stand; his victories multiplied faster than his understanding of peace. In his haste to be immortal, he became undone — exiled and broken, his grandeur turned to dust. He is proof of Disraeli’s warning: greatness that comes too quickly burns itself to ashes.

And yet, for every Napoleon, there is a Lincoln — one who climbs slowly, who endures humiliation, defeat, and years of obscurity, yet emerges unshaken. Abraham Lincoln failed in business, lost elections, and bore the scars of ridicule, but he did not hurry. He grew in silence, gathering strength, deepening compassion. By the time destiny called, he was ready — not merely to rule, but to redeem. His greatness was not an accident of fortune but the harvest of patience and integrity. His rise was slow — but his legacy, eternal.

Disraeli’s warning is not meant to still ambition, but to purify it. He does not tell us to dream less, but to dream wisely. The soul that desires greatness must first be willing to bear the weight of preparation. It must welcome failure as teacher, delay as discipline, solitude as forge. Those who rush toward fame seek applause; those who endure seek truth. And only truth endures the centuries. For every instant victory fades like smoke, but the labor of a lifetime becomes legacy.

The lesson is this: do not chase greatness — grow into it. Be steadfast in your craft, faithful in your purpose, and humble in your ascent. Let time be your ally, not your enemy. Build character before reputation, substance before spectacle. The world may not notice you today, but when your hour comes, you will stand unshaken, for your roots will reach deep into the soil of perseverance.

So remember the words of Benjamin Disraeli: “Beware of endeavoring to become a great man in a hurry.” For greatness is not a race, but a pilgrimage. It is not seized in an instant, but forged through years of struggle and grace. Walk steadily, not swiftly; climb patiently, not proudly. For the stars that rise too quickly are the first to fade, but those that ascend in their own time light the heavens forever.