And there was so much that was good and fine and true inyour character. The little heart of you was as big as the dawn itselfover the wide hills. This was shown by your spontaneous impulseto rush in and kiss me good night. Nothing else matters tonight，son. I have come to your bed-side in the darkness， and I haveknelt there， ashamed！
It is a feeble atonement; I know you would not understandthese things if I told them to you during your waking hours. Buttomorrow I will be a real daddy！ I will chum with you， and sufferwhen you suffer， and laugh when you laugh. I will bite my tonguewhen impatient words come. I will keep saying as if it were aritual：“He is nothing but a boy—a little boy！”
I am afraid I have visualized you as a man. Yet as I see younow， son， crumpled and weary in your cot， I see that you are stilla baby. Yesterday you were in your mother’s arms， your head onher shoulder. I have asked too much， too much.
Instead of condemning people， let’s try to understand them.
Let’s try to figure out why they do what they do. That’s a lot moreprofitable and intriguing than criticism; and it breeds sympathy，tolerance and kindness. “To know all is to forgive all.”
As Dr. Johnson said：“God himself， sir， does not propose to judgeman until the end of his days.”
Why should you and I?
PRINCIPLE 1：
Don’t criticize， condemn or complain.
Chapter 2
The Big Secret of Dealing With People
There is only one way under high heaven to get anybody to doanything. Did you ever stop to think of that? Yes， just one way.
And that is by making the other person want to do it.
Remember， there is no other way.
Of course， you can make someone want to give you his watchby sticking a revolver in his ribs. You can make your employeesgive you cooperation—until your back is turned—by threateningto fire them. You can make a child do what you want it to do by awhip or a threat. But these crude methods have sharply undesirablerepercussions.
The only way I can get you to do anything is by giving you whatyou want.
What do you want?
Sigmund Freud said that everything you and I do springsfrom two motives： the sex urge and the desire to be great. JohnDewey， one of America’s most profound philosophers， phrased ita bit differently. Dr. Dewey said that the deepest urge in humannature is “the desire to be important.” Remember that phrase： “thedesire to be important.” It is significant. You are going to hear alot about it in this book.
What do you want? Not many things， but the few that you dowish， you crave with an insistence that will not be denied. Someof the things most people want include：1. Health and the preservation of life.
2. Food.
3. Sleep.
4. Money and the things money will buy.
5. Life in the hereafter.
6. Sexual gratification.
7. The well-being of our children.
8. A feeling of importance.
Almost all these wants are usually gratified—all except one.
But there is one longing—almost as deep， almost as imperious， asthe desire for food or sleep—which is seldom gratified. It is whatFreud calls “the desire to be great.” It is what Dewey calls the“desire to be important.”
Lincoln once began a letter saying： “Everybody likes acompliment.” William James said： “The deepest principle inhuman nature is the craving to be appreciated.” He didn’t speak，mind you， of the “wish” or the “desire” or the “longing” to beappreciated. He said the “craving” to be appreciated.
Here is a gnawing and unfaltering human hunger， and therare individual who honestly satisfies this heart hunger will holdpeople in the palm of his or her hand and “even the undertakerwill be sorry when he dies.”
The desire for a feeling of importance is one of the chiefdistinguishing differences between mankind and the animals.
When I was a farm boy out in Missouri， my father bred fineDuroc-Jersey hogs and pedigreed white-faced cattle. We usedto exhibit our hogs and white-faced cattle at the country fairsand live-stock shows throughout the Middle West. We won firstprizes by the score. My father pinned his blue ribbons on a sheetof white muslin， and when friends or visitors came to the house，he would get out the long sheet of muslin. He would hold one endand I would hold the other while he exhibited the blue ribbons.
The hogs didn’t care about the ribbons they had won. ButFather did. These prizes gave him a feeling of importance. If ourancestors hadn’t had this flaming urge for a feeling of importance，civilization would have been impossible. Without it， we shouldhave been just about like animals.
It was this desire for a feeling of importance that led anuneducated， poverty-stricken grocery clerk to study some lawbooks he found in the bottom of a barrel of household plunderthat he had bought for fifty cents. You have probably heardof this grocery clerk. His name was Lincoln. It was this desirefor a feeling of importance that inspired Dickens to write hisimmortal novels. This desire inspired Sir Christoper Wren todesign his symphonies in stone. This desire made Rockefelleramass millions that he never spent！ And this same desire madethe richest family in your town build a house far too large forits requirements. This desire makes you want to wear the lateststyles， drive the latest cars， and talk about your brilliant children.
It is this desire that lures many boys and girls into joininggangs and engaging in criminal activities. The average youngcriminal， according to E. P. Mulrooney， onetime policecommissioner of New York， is filled with ego， and his first requestafter arrest is for those lurid newspapers that make him out ahero. The disagreeable prospect of serving time seems remote solong as he can gloat over his likeness sharing space with picturesof sports figures， movie and TV stars and politicians.
If you tell me how you get your feeling of importance， I’lltell you what you are. That determines your character. Thatis the most significant thing about you. For example， John D.