You were making that joke while you were still dead, and if that won't stop you, I don't think anything will.
[But that....
His faith settles around her like a blanket one that someone else might feel was suffocating, but she.... She already has no choice but to succeed. No matter how long the path. So instead she twines around him like a cat, wrapping herself close to him, her arms around his neck, her head against his shoulder.]
William Ernest Henley is a poet who lived about when you did, I think. Perhaps his most famous work was written in 1875 and published in 1888: a poem called Invictus, the Latin word for 'unconquered'.
Out of the night that covers me, Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.
no subject
[But that....
His faith settles around her like a blanket one that someone else might feel was suffocating, but she.... She already has no choice but to succeed. No matter how long the path. So instead she twines around him like a cat, wrapping herself close to him, her arms around his neck, her head against his shoulder.]
William Ernest Henley is a poet who lived about when you did, I think. Perhaps his most famous work was written in 1875 and published in 1888: a poem called Invictus, the Latin word for 'unconquered'.
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.