Until you, too, can pen something comparable in the opening lines of your autobiography, you have work to do.
I am commencing an undertaking, hitherto without precedent, and which will never find an imitator. I desire to set before my fellows the likeness of a man in all the truth of nature, and that man myself. … I have unveiled my inmost self even as Thou hast seen it, O Eternal Being. Gather round me the countless host of my fellow-men; let them hear my confessions, lament for my unworthiness, and blush for my imperfections. Then let each of them in turn reveal, with the same frankness, the secrets of his heart at the foot of the Throne, and say, if he dare, ‘I was better than that man!‘
—Jacques Rousseau, The Confession of Jean-Jaques Rousseau (The Pocket Library, 1957), p. 1