If nominated, I will not run; if elected, I will not serve.

In the words of William Tecumseh Sherman, “If nominated, I will not run; if elected, I will not serve,” we hear the thunder of a man who knew both power and burden, and who refused to bind himself again to the yoke of public ambition. Sherman, the great Union general of the American Civil War, victor of the March to the Sea, spoke these words not as a jest but as an oath. He wished to silence forever the whispers that he might seek the presidency, for he had tasted the fires of command and would not surrender his soul to the even harsher battlefield of politics. His words are resolute, final, as though carved in stone—an unyielding rejection of the siren call of ambition.

The origin of this declaration comes from 1884, when leaders of the Republican Party sought to put Sherman forward as a candidate for president. His fame as a general, his reputation for discipline, and his place in the nation’s heart made him a tempting choice. Yet Sherman knew himself. He knew the sacrifices he had already endured, the relentless scrutiny that would come, and the corruption that lurked in political life. Rather than allow speculation to grow, he gave his answer with absolute clarity: no. Not if nominated, not if elected, not at any cost. He would not let others draft him into a battle he refused to fight.

History is rich with tales of those who could not resist the lure of power, and who perished beneath its weight. Julius Caesar, though warned by dreams and omens, could not refuse the crown of Rome when offered, and his fall stained the Senate floor with blood. Napoleon Bonaparte, even after exile, could not resist returning to France to grasp power once more, only to meet his ruin at Waterloo. Sherman stands in contrast to such men. His greatness lay not only in his victories but in his refusal to be consumed by ambition. He knew that the highest triumph is sometimes in the strength to refuse.

The deeper meaning of Sherman’s words is this: that not every call is destiny, and not every opportunity must be seized. In a world where men and women are often told to chase every chance, to grasp every crown, Sherman teaches us that wisdom sometimes lies in abstention. He understood that politics would devour him, that his temperament and soul were unsuited to its compromises and intrigues. By refusing, he preserved his honor, his peace, and his legacy. Better to say no with finality than to enter a role for which one’s heart has no calling.

Yet his refusal was also an act of service, though cloaked in denial. For to enter an office one cannot serve faithfully is not service at all but betrayal. Sherman’s rejection spared the nation the weakness of a reluctant president. His words remind us that leadership is not a prize to be forced upon the unwilling, but a sacred trust to be embraced only by those prepared to bear it. By declining, he showed more integrity than many who accepted. His honesty, though harsh, was an act of loyalty to the republic.

The lesson for us, O listener, is eternal: do not mistake ambition for destiny. The world may call you to roles of honor, but you must know yourself before you answer. If the burden is one you cannot carry, it is no shame to refuse—it is wisdom. In your own life, weigh carefully the responsibilities you accept. Do not take positions, honors, or duties for the sake of pride alone. Accept only those you can serve with integrity, and decline the rest with the firmness of Sherman’s vow.

As for practical action: when opportunities come, do not rush to grasp them. Reflect. Ask whether you can serve faithfully, whether your soul is suited to the task, whether your acceptance would bring life to others or only misery to yourself. If you must refuse, refuse with clarity, as Sherman did, so that no doubt lingers. And if you accept, accept fully, with the resolve of one who has freely chosen his path.

Thus, Sherman’s words endure as more than a rejection of the presidency—they are a hymn to self-knowledge, to integrity, and to the strength of refusal. “If nominated, I will not run; if elected, I will not serve.” This is not cowardice, but courage; not dereliction, but wisdom. For the greatest victory of all is sometimes not in conquest, but in the mastery of one’s own ambition.