Not my own work, I know, but this is one of my favourite poems by Rudyard Kipling, and I felt the need to share it with you all:
IF
If you can keep your head when all around 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 of 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 the can think and not make thoughts your aim.
If you can meet triumph with disaster,
And treat those two imposters 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 hold on when you there will 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!
IF
If you can keep your head when all around 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 of 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 the can think and not make thoughts your aim.
If you can meet triumph with disaster,
And treat those two imposters 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 hold on when you there will 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!