What sort of word is that?
One does what one does, not because one wills, but because one must; not on account of an operation aimed at, but because of a compelling cause.

He who reckons on any kind of reward for his works is on the same footing as a silly woman who claims men's approbation because she is pretty or an unreasoning child, who wants to be praised and petted because he has eaten his dinner.

A mature perception arrives at this idea of the duty which one must fulfill, and in no hope of the gratification of individual vanity or self-seeking.

Recognition! Does the wind hope for recognition from the ships it helps to sail?
Is it blamed if it dashes the ship to pieces?
It blows, as it must, and is perfectly indifferent about what men say, and as to its effect on trees, and chimney-pots, and ships.

My brain is now thinking just as the wind blows.