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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