Once in a while, a poem says it better than 10,000 words of prose …<\/p>\n
Like this from William Ernest Henley —<\/p>\n
Invictus<\/strong><\/p>\n Out of the night that covers me, In the fell clutch of circumstance Beyond this place of wrath and tears It matters not how strait the gate, Or from Rudyard Kipling<\/p>\n If<\/strong><\/p>\n If you can keep your head when all about you If you can dream – and not make dreams your master; If you can make one heap of all your winnings And lose, and start again at your beginnings<\/p>\n And never breath a word about your loss; If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or from Edna St. Vincent Milay<\/p>\n First Fig<\/strong><\/p>\n Once in a while, a poem says it better than 10,000 words of prose … Like this from William Ernest Henley — Invictus Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pole, I thank … Continue reading
\nBlack as the Pit from pole to pole,
\nI thank whatever gods may be
\nFor my unconquerable soul<\/p>\n
\nI have not winced nor cried aloud
\nUnder the bludgeonings of chance
\nMy head is bloody, but unbowed<\/p>\n
\nLooms but the Horror of the shade,
\nAnd yet the menace of the years
\nFinds, and shall find, me unafraid<\/p>\n
\nHow charged with punishments the scroll,
\nI am the master of my fate
\nI am the captain of my soul<\/p>\n
\nAre losing theirs and blaming it on you;
\nIf you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
\nBut make allowance for their doubting too;
\nIf you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
\nOr, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
\nOr, being hated, don’t give way to hating,
\nAnd yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;<\/p>\n
\nIf you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
\nIf you can meet with triumph and disaster
\nAnd treat those two imposters just the same;
\nIf you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
\nTwisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
\nOr watch the things you gave your life to broken,
\nAnd stoop and build ’em up with wornout tools;<\/p>\n
\nAnd risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,<\/p>\n
\nIf you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
\nTo serve your turn long after they are gone,
\nAnd so hold on when there is nothing in you
\nExcept the Will which says to them: “Hold on”;<\/p>\n
\nOr walk with kings – nor lose the common touch;
\nIf neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
\nIf all men count with you, but none too much;
\nIf you can fill the unforgiving minute
\nWith sixty seconds’ worth of distance run –
\nYours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
\nAnd – which is more – you’ll be a Man my son!<\/p>\nMy candle burns at both ends;\r\nIt will not last the night;\r\nBut ah, my foes, and oh, my friends\u2014\r\nIt gives a lovely light.<\/pre>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"