Everything depends on the daily.

Character is built with it. With the drop-drop-drop of daily deposits of integrity; of choosing what we want most over what we want now; with placing the genuinely important above the exigent.

Certainly our skills depend on it. We become great at something by first being ordinary but interested, and slowly becoming proficient, and perhaps even one day finding we have developed mastery.

Our relationships, too, or their decline, hinge on the million small choices we make day after day after day. When we are tired, when we are tempted, when we are tense.

Yet the daily feels so very insignificant. It is just this moment, this instant – small, disposable, forgettable. Except that it is the beginning – or end – of everything.