But the effect of her being on those around her was incalculably diffusive: for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs.

“That depends,” said Caleb, turning his head on one side and lowering his voice with the air of a man who felt himself to be saying something deeply religious. “You must love your work, and not always be looking over the edge of it, wanting your play to begin. And the other is, you must not be ashamed of your work and think it would be more honorable to you to be doing something else. You must have a pride in your own work and learning to do it well, and not be always saying there’s this and there’s that — if I had this or that to do, I might make something of it. No matter what a man is, I wouldn’t give two pence for him” — here Caleb’s mouth looked bitter, and he snapped his fingers “whether he was the prime-minister or the rick-thatcher if he didn’t do well what he undertook to do.”

(p.527 from the 2015 Penguin edition.)