“Hope” is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all,And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.I’ve heard it in the chillest land
And on the strangest sea,
Yet never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.– Emily Dickinson
Rules for the Road
Stand straight:
Step firmly, throw your weight:
The heaven is high above your head,
The good gray road is faithful to your tread.
Be strong:
Sing to your heart a battle song:
Though hidden foemen lie in wait, Something is in you that can smile at Fate.
Press through:
Nothing can harm if you are true.
And when the night comes, rest:
The earth is friendly as a mother’s breast.
Edwin Markham.
Tis not by wishing that we gain the prize, Nor yet by ruing,
But from our falling, learning how to rise, And tireless doing.
The idols broken, nor our tears and sighs, May yet restore them.
Regret is only for fools; the wise Look but before them.
Nor ever yet Success was wooed with tears; To notes of gladness
Alone the fickle goddess turns her ears, She hears not sadness.
The heart thrives not in the dull rain and mist Of gloomy pining.
The sweetest flowers are the flowers sun-kissed, Where glad light’s shining.
Look not behind thee; there is only dust And vain regretting.
The lost tide ebbs; in the next flood thou must Learn, by forgetting.
For the lost chances be ye not distressed To endless weeping;
Be not the thrush that o’er the empty nest Is vigil keeping.
But in new efforts our regrets to-day To stillness whiling,
Let us in some pure purpose find the way To future smiling.
James W. Foley.
It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat… The man who does nothing cuts the same sordid figure in the pages of history, whether he be a cynic, or fop, or voluptuary. There is little use for the being whose tepid soul knows nothing of great and generous emotion, of the high pride, the stern belief, the lofty enthusiasm, of the men who quell the storm and ride the thunder.
“I am not afraid. I was born to do this.”
— Saint Joan of Arc
I am not afraid of storms for I am learning how to sail my ship.
