The Measure of a Man

by Sidney Poitier

On the streets I developed a little mercy regarding myself as well as others, and maybe even a little wisdom.

There were many, many close scrapes, but I was young and resilient. Often it seemed that something I could neither touch nor see—some mysterious force—had just walked me through a difficult patch or had covered my back at a crucial point. Was that something a spiritual presence? An intuitive sense? Wishful thinking?

Of all my father’s teachings, the most enduring was the one about the true measure of a man. That true measure was how well he provided for his children, and it stuck with me as if it were etched in my brain.

Progress then and now comes from the collision of powerful forces within the hearts of those who strive for it. Anger and charity, love and hate, pride and shame, broken down and reassembled in an igneous process that yields a fierce resolve.

Acting isn’t a game of “pretend.” It’s an exercise in being real.

You don’t have to become something you’re not to be better than you were.

That narrowest of definitions has declared a faithful husband to be one who can be depended upon to provide for his wife and children.