"He who goes step by step always finds himself level with a step"
About this Quote
A quiet paradox unfolds: progress pursued patiently never feels like arrival. Step by step evokes prudence, diligence, and a steady pace, yet being level with a step suggests that the traveler is always confined to the immediate rung beneath his feet. The image unsettles triumphal narratives of progress. However high one climbs, the lived experience is perpetually local, a single step. The summit does not announce itself; there is only the next riser, the present edge.
That irony cuts two ways. It can be a warning about incrementalism, which may keep a person forever within the measures and rhythms of the staircase, never risking the leap that might yield a new vantage. To stay level with a step is to be defined by the step, by what is near and measurable. But it can also be a counsel of humility and presence. Real ascent is built on contact points. The only place one can stand is the step one is on. Visions of the whole staircase are abstractions; the body knows the stair as touch, balance, and breath.
Antonio Porchia, the Italian-born Argentine writer known for his book Voces, worked almost exclusively in aphorisms that destabilize easy moral lessons. His lines often hold a mirror to the limits of human perspective, reminding us that consciousness meets life in fragments. Admirers like W. S. Merwin noted how Porchia compresses entire philosophies into a sentence without shutting down ambiguity. Here, the ambiguity is the point: progress and stasis can feel identical when experienced moment to moment.
There is a tacit invitation to cultivate two complementary capacities. One is fidelity to the step, an acceptance that meaning is made in the small, exacting contacts with the world. The other is reflective distance, the rare pause or lateral move that lets the traveler glimpse the architecture of the climb. Without the first, there is fantasy without traction; without the second, a staircase walked blindly, whose destination is never truly seen.
That irony cuts two ways. It can be a warning about incrementalism, which may keep a person forever within the measures and rhythms of the staircase, never risking the leap that might yield a new vantage. To stay level with a step is to be defined by the step, by what is near and measurable. But it can also be a counsel of humility and presence. Real ascent is built on contact points. The only place one can stand is the step one is on. Visions of the whole staircase are abstractions; the body knows the stair as touch, balance, and breath.
Antonio Porchia, the Italian-born Argentine writer known for his book Voces, worked almost exclusively in aphorisms that destabilize easy moral lessons. His lines often hold a mirror to the limits of human perspective, reminding us that consciousness meets life in fragments. Admirers like W. S. Merwin noted how Porchia compresses entire philosophies into a sentence without shutting down ambiguity. Here, the ambiguity is the point: progress and stasis can feel identical when experienced moment to moment.
There is a tacit invitation to cultivate two complementary capacities. One is fidelity to the step, an acceptance that meaning is made in the small, exacting contacts with the world. The other is reflective distance, the rare pause or lateral move that lets the traveler glimpse the architecture of the climb. Without the first, there is fantasy without traction; without the second, a staircase walked blindly, whose destination is never truly seen.
Quote Details
| Topic | Perseverance |
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