A poem by Rudyard Kipling, emphasis mine:
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming
it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make
allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by
waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't
give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If
you can dream — and not make dreams your master;
If you can think — and not
make thoughts your aim,If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And
treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth
you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the
things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out
tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on
one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your
beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force
your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are
gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which
says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your
virtue,
Or walk with Kings — nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes
nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too
much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of
distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,And — which
is more — you'll be a Man, my son!
— Rudyard Kipling
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