Keep on beginning and failing. Each time you fail, start all

Hear the immortal words of Anne Sullivan, the “miracle worker” whose own life was carved from suffering and struggle: “Keep on beginning and failing. Each time you fail, start all over again, and you will grow stronger until you have accomplished a purpose—not the one you began with perhaps, but one you’ll be glad to remember.” These words shine with the fire of perseverance, born not from comfort but from the crucible of hardship. For she knew, more than most, that progress is not the absence of failure, but the courage to rise from it again and again.

The ancients, too, proclaimed this truth. Did not the Stoics teach that the path to virtue lies in stumbling forward, falling and rising until the soul is tempered like steel? Failure was not their enemy but their tutor, the hand that shaped strength. Sullivan’s words are their echo, urging us to embrace not only the first attempt, but the endless cycle of beginning anew, for through this rhythm of falling and rising we become greater than we ever imagined.

Consider Anne Sullivan’s own life. As a child, her eyes were struck blind with disease. Orphaned, she was left in poverty, shunned and forgotten. Yet through pain, surgery, and relentless effort, she regained partial sight and pursued education at the Perkins School for the Blind. She stumbled, faltered, and endured ridicule. Yet she continued to begin again. And because she did, she became the teacher who unlocked the world for Helen Keller, giving light to one who dwelt in both silence and darkness. Her purpose was not the one she first dreamed of, but it became one remembered through the ages.

Think also of Thomas Edison, whose path to the electric light was paved with a thousand failures. To the world, he seemed a fool, yet to him each failure was a lesson. He did not despair, but began again, stronger for the knowledge gained. At last, his persistence lit the world. His triumph was not the sudden blaze of genius, but the slow fire of countless sparks struck in the dark. Sullivan’s wisdom speaks here: the final purpose may not be the one you first sought, but it will be one worth cherishing.

But hear this warning, O seekers of truth: those who fear failure will never know greatness. They will sit unmoved upon the shore, never setting sail, because they dread the storm. Yet those who dare, who rise after each wreck and build anew, will cross oceans and discover lands unseen. For it is not perfection that defines destiny, but the refusal to surrender when the road grows hard.

The lesson is clear: treat failure not as an end, but as a companion upon the journey. Welcome it, learn from it, and then rise again. Each time you fall, your roots grow deeper, your spirit grows tougher, your wisdom grows sharper. In the end, the purpose you reach may surprise you, but you will look back with gratitude, knowing the path was worth the pain.

Practical wisdom lies before you: when your efforts collapse, do not curse the ruins—gather the stones and build again. When others mock your persistence, let their words be fuel. Write down your failures as lessons, not tombstones. And remind yourself daily that the work of life is not to never stumble, but to never cease rising. If you keep beginning, you will in time stand upon the mountain, looking back with a heart full of remembrance, not regret.

Therefore, let Anne Sullivan’s words be engraved upon your soul: “Keep on beginning and failing. Each time you fail, start over, and you will grow stronger until you reach a purpose you’ll be glad to remember.” This is no mere encouragement—it is the law of endurance, the fire of resilience, the triumph of those who never yield. Walk in it, and your failures will become stepping stones to a destiny greater than you first sought.