"It takes less time to do a thing right, than it does to explain why you did it wrong"
About this Quote
A poet making a productivity argument is the first quiet joke here: Longfellow wraps a moral lesson in the plain, ledger-book logic of time. The line doesn’t plead for virtue; it threatens you with bureaucracy. Do it wrong and you don’t just fail, you inherit a second job: the cringe-inducing, credibility-draining performance of explanation. That’s the subtext most people recognize from modern workplaces, but it’s also a sly comment on social order. Mistakes aren’t merely errors; they create narratives, and narratives have to be sold to an audience that may already be impatient.
The sentence works because it swaps the usual sermon for a cost-benefit analysis. “Right” isn’t framed as noble; it’s framed as efficient. That’s an ethos move: Longfellow persuades by making conscientiousness sound like the shortcut. The phrasing also implies a power dynamic. You “explain” to someone - a boss, a client, a public - which means the real punishment of doing it wrong is losing control of the story. You’re no longer acting; you’re defending.
In Longfellow’s 19th-century American context, this lands amid a culture increasingly obsessed with diligence, self-command, and reputation as currency. For a poet often associated with moral clarity and accessible uplift, the line is unusually hard-nosed: not romantic, not mystical, just a crisp warning that incompetence multiplies. Even your excuses take time.
The sentence works because it swaps the usual sermon for a cost-benefit analysis. “Right” isn’t framed as noble; it’s framed as efficient. That’s an ethos move: Longfellow persuades by making conscientiousness sound like the shortcut. The phrasing also implies a power dynamic. You “explain” to someone - a boss, a client, a public - which means the real punishment of doing it wrong is losing control of the story. You’re no longer acting; you’re defending.
In Longfellow’s 19th-century American context, this lands amid a culture increasingly obsessed with diligence, self-command, and reputation as currency. For a poet often associated with moral clarity and accessible uplift, the line is unusually hard-nosed: not romantic, not mystical, just a crisp warning that incompetence multiplies. Even your excuses take time.
Quote Details
| Topic | Work Ethic |
|---|
More Quotes by Henry
Add to List








