"When my horse is running good, I don't stop to give him sugar"
About this Quote
That line has the clean snap of barn wisdom, but its real target is human vanity: our itch to tamper with what’s working just so we can feel responsible for it. Horton, a clergyman with an ear for the ordinary, borrows the logic of the stable to skewer a habit common in church life and beyond - the need to “reward” success in ways that quietly distract from the work itself.
On the surface, it’s pragmatic. A horse “running good” has rhythm, focus, a kind of earned momentum. Stopping to hand out sugar breaks stride, breaks attention, and risks teaching the animal to anticipate treats instead of trusting the run. Translated into people: constant praise, perks, and ceremonial gold stars can become a spiritual and organizational brake. They turn effort into performance and performance into bargaining.
The subtext is a warning against two temptations: sentimental interference and managerial micromanagement. Horton isn’t anti-kindness; he’s anti-transaction. Sugar is cheap, immediate, and addictive - exactly the kind of reward that can slowly replace intrinsic purpose with appetite. For a clergyman formed in an era that prized duty and restraint, the metaphor lands as a critique of a feel-good culture that confuses affirmation with formation.
It also contains a quiet ethic of trust. If something (or someone) is thriving, the most respectful move may be to not meddle - to keep the course clear, let the stride hold, and save the sugar for when endurance, not applause, is what’s being asked.
On the surface, it’s pragmatic. A horse “running good” has rhythm, focus, a kind of earned momentum. Stopping to hand out sugar breaks stride, breaks attention, and risks teaching the animal to anticipate treats instead of trusting the run. Translated into people: constant praise, perks, and ceremonial gold stars can become a spiritual and organizational brake. They turn effort into performance and performance into bargaining.
The subtext is a warning against two temptations: sentimental interference and managerial micromanagement. Horton isn’t anti-kindness; he’s anti-transaction. Sugar is cheap, immediate, and addictive - exactly the kind of reward that can slowly replace intrinsic purpose with appetite. For a clergyman formed in an era that prized duty and restraint, the metaphor lands as a critique of a feel-good culture that confuses affirmation with formation.
It also contains a quiet ethic of trust. If something (or someone) is thriving, the most respectful move may be to not meddle - to keep the course clear, let the stride hold, and save the sugar for when endurance, not applause, is what’s being asked.
Quote Details
| Topic | Motivational |
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