Yes, there's such a thing as luck in trial law but it only comes

The words of Louis Nizer, “Yes, there's such a thing as luck in trial law but it only comes at 3 o'clock in the morning. You'll still find me in the library looking for luck at 3 o'clock in the morning,” are both a confession and a command. They reveal the secret of mastery: that what many call luck is often nothing more than the fruit of relentless labor, sown in the silent hours when others sleep. Nizer, famed as one of the greatest trial lawyers of the twentieth century, did not deny the role of fortune, but he clothed it in truth—fortune favors not the idle, but the watchful, those who bend their backs and sharpen their minds long after the world has grown quiet.

The origin of this saying comes from Nizer’s own life, a life marked by discipline, brilliance, and an unyielding pursuit of excellence in the courtroom. As a lawyer, he knew the weight of human fate rested often on the turn of an argument, the discovery of a precedent, the uncovering of a single detail in a sea of evidence. To some, a sudden revelation in trial might seem like mere chance. But Nizer knew better: it was the reward of the countless hours spent in the library at dawn, wrestling with words, searching for meaning, preparing beyond exhaustion. His “luck” was nothing more than preparation meeting opportunity.

History is filled with echoes of this truth. Consider Thomas Edison, who declared that genius is “one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration.” When his lightbulb finally burned steady, the world hailed it as a miracle, as luck, as destiny fulfilled. But the miracle was born of thousands of failures, of nights spent amid wires and filaments. So too with Nizer: when fortune seemed to smile in the courtroom, it was only because he had already prepared himself in the darkest hours. The world may call it chance, but the wise know it as toil.

The deeper meaning of Nizer’s words is that true success does not come to those who wait passively for luck, but to those who create the conditions for luck to find them. In law, in art, in science, in life itself, breakthroughs arrive not to the dreamer who slumbers, but to the laborer who wakes before dawn. The hour of 3 o’clock in the morning is not only a literal time but a symbol—the time when only the most dedicated remain awake, pressing forward while the rest of the world drifts in comfort.

Yet his words are also a challenge to our generation. Too many look to shortcuts, to quick gains, to the hope of luck without sacrifice. They envy the victories of others but do not see the nights of labor that prepared them. Nizer tears away this illusion. His “library at 3 a.m.” is a reminder that greatness is hidden in the unseen hours, in the grind no one celebrates, in the silence before triumph. The applause comes later, but the true battle is fought alone in the dark.

The lesson for us is luminous: if we desire luck, let us earn it. If we wish for success, let us sow it in the hours when the world is still. For every page studied, every skill practiced, every moment of sacrifice prepares the ground for the harvest. Let us not wait for chance to bless us, but let us forge our own chance with patience and endurance. Even if fortune plays a hand, it will always reach first for the prepared.

Therefore, live with this wisdom: rise early, labor late, and treat every moment of study as the seed of destiny. Do not despise the lonely hours, for they are the birthplace of triumph. And when others marvel at your good fortune, you will know—as Nizer knew—that it was no accident, but the harvest of diligence.

So let his words echo through the ages: “Luck… only comes at 3 o’clock in the morning.” It is not luck at all, but the crown placed upon the head of the tireless. Let each of us, in our chosen path, walk to that library at dawn, whether literal or symbolic, and there prepare ourselves for the victories yet to come. For in the end, the gods of fortune bow not to chance, but to effort, discipline, and unwavering devotion.