That's the way I got along in life. I don't ever remember being
That's the way I got along in life. I don't ever remember being particularly jealous of anybody, because I figured if I can't do it myself, I don't deserve to get it.
There are words that gleam with quiet dignity, spoken not from pride but from the hard-won peace of a self-reliant soul. Among such words are those of Clyde Tombaugh, the humble farm boy who gazed at the heavens and discovered Pluto, the farthest known planet of his time. He once said: “That’s the way I got along in life. I don’t ever remember being particularly jealous of anybody, because I figured if I can’t do it myself, I don’t deserve to get it.” In this statement lies the essence of true perseverance—an ethic forged not by privilege or ease, but by labor, integrity, and faith in one’s own effort. Tombaugh’s words shine as a lantern for all generations, reminding us that the path to greatness is not lit by envy, but by discipline and self-belief.
To understand his wisdom, one must know his story. Clyde Tombaugh was born in 1906 in the plains of Illinois, raised amid dust and toil, with no formal education in astronomy. Yet his heart belonged to the stars. When hail destroyed his family’s crops, he carved telescopes from scrap metal and ground lenses by hand. Night after night, he studied the sky with unyielding patience. In 1930, his persistence was rewarded—he discovered Pluto while working at Lowell Observatory, forever etching his name among the immortals of science. And yet, through all his triumph, Tombaugh remained grounded, never corrupted by jealousy or pride. He had no need to envy others, for he understood a profound truth: achievement gained without effort is empty, and success borrowed from another’s hand is not truly one’s own.
When Tombaugh said he was never jealous, he did not mean he lacked ambition. Rather, he had mastered contentment in effort, the rare art of finding joy in the work itself. Jealousy, after all, is the disease of those who measure themselves by the progress of others. It poisons the heart, whispering that life is unfair and that success is owed rather than earned. But Tombaugh saw the world differently. He believed that if something was truly meant for him, it would come through his own labor, not through envy or entitlement. In this way, he freed himself from the restless comparisons that burden so many souls. His eyes stayed fixed on the stars above, not the shadows beside him.
His words echo the wisdom of the ancients. The philosopher Epictetus taught that no man can control fortune, only his own will, and that envy is ignorance of one’s true power. The Taoists said that “contentment is the greatest wealth,” for the one who is satisfied with his effort cannot be robbed of peace. Tombaugh lived these truths not in temples or courts, but in barns and observatories, under open skies. His life was proof that greatness arises not from circumstance, but from steadfast purpose. Where others dreamed idly, he worked quietly; where others complained, he created. And so, the universe rewarded him.
The meaning of Tombaugh’s quote reaches beyond the stars—it speaks to all who strive in this world of noise and comparison. We live in an age where envy is constant, where people covet achievements they have not labored for, where worth is measured by recognition rather than resilience. Tombaugh’s creed reminds us that true success must be earned—that every dream fulfilled by one’s own hands carries a sacred pride that no borrowed glory can match. The man who works for what he loves, even in obscurity, stands taller than the one who envies under a spotlight.
There is also a nobility in his refusal to feel jealousy. Jealousy shrinks the spirit, but effort expands it. The one who works believes in his own capacity, and belief is the foundation of destiny. Tombaugh did not wait for opportunity; he built it. His discovery was not an accident, but the natural result of devotion over time. He looked at the successes of others not as threats, but as proof that achievement was possible. And in that, he found strength, not bitterness.
The lesson of Clyde Tombaugh’s life and words is clear: Do not waste your heart envying another’s reward. Spend it building your own. If you desire greatness, let that desire move your hands, not poison your thoughts. If you admire another’s success, let it inspire you, not wound you. And when failure comes—as it must—remember that the effort itself is its own reward, for every honest struggle shapes the soul into something indestructible.
So let these words be a guide to all who dream: If you cannot do it yourself, you do not yet deserve it—but if you are willing to try, to labor, to endure, you are already on the path. For what you earn through perseverance will never be taken from you. Clyde Tombaugh looked to the stars and reached them, not through envy, but through effort. Let us do the same—not seeking what others have, but becoming what we are meant to be: creators, dreamers, and servants of our own destiny.
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