Luck is not something you can mention in the presence of

Hear the wry wisdom of E. B. White, who observed with quiet irony: “Luck is not something you can mention in the presence of self-made men.” His words carry a sting, for they reveal the tension between pride and humility, between the stories we tell of ourselves and the unseen forces that shape our lives. In this reflection, White unmasks the delicate ego of those who boast of their independence, reminding us that no man is truly the sole author of his fortune.

The essence of this saying lies in the myth of the self-made man. Such a figure proclaims that his success springs solely from his own labor, that his riches, power, or influence are the product of unbroken will and relentless effort. To mention luck in his presence is to pierce the illusion, to suggest that chance, circumstance, or the aid of others played a role. And because pride recoils at such reminders, the very word becomes forbidden, an offense to the tale of solitary triumph he clings to.

Yet history and wisdom teach us otherwise. No man is ever entirely self-made. The farmer plants his seed, but it is the rain and the sun that grant the harvest. The merchant builds his business, but it is the trust of others that sustains it. The general leads his army, but it is the courage of his soldiers that wins the day. Fortune, circumstance, and the unseen hand of providence all play their part. To deny this is to blind oneself; to acknowledge it is to walk in humility.

Consider the life of Andrew Carnegie, the great industrialist. He often proclaimed himself a self-made man, rising from poverty to immense wealth. Yet even his story was woven with threads of fortune: the chance of meeting patrons, the timing of railroads in a growing nation, the labor of countless workers who toiled in his mills. His effort was immense, yes, but without circumstance and opportunity, his empire could not have been built. The luck he denied was present in every turn of his tale.

In contrast, Abraham Lincoln, though often hailed as self-made, spoke with humility about the forces that aided him: teachers, neighbors, books borrowed, and even the hardships of poverty that sharpened his will. He knew his rise was not solely his own doing, but the result of both labor and providence. His greatness was not diminished by admitting this truth; it was magnified. For true wisdom lies not in denying luck, but in recognizing it while still honoring the work of one’s hands.

The lesson here is clear: do not deceive yourself with the illusion of total self-sufficiency. Strive with all your strength, but remember the role of chance, of timing, of the kindness or aid of others. To acknowledge luck does not cheapen effort—it deepens gratitude. To deny it breeds arrogance and blindness. The humble man sees both sides: his labor and the fortune that aided it.

Practical is this counsel: when you succeed, pause to give thanks, not only to your own diligence, but also to the forces and people that helped you. Recognize the invisible scaffolding upon which your tower was built. When you see another struggle, do not scorn them as lazy, for you cannot know the weight of chance against them. In this way, you guard your heart against pride and grow in compassion for others.

So remember the words of E. B. White: “Luck is not something you can mention in the presence of self-made men.” Take them as both satire and truth. For the wise will not silence the word luck, but will speak it with humility, knowing that life is a tapestry woven of effort and chance alike. And he who honors both will walk with gratitude, with compassion, and with the gentleness of one who knows he did not walk alone.