Life about now

Lots of people telling me to buck up and “it could be so much worse” and be a hero and all that. Very nice of them to let me know. I’m as grumpy as hell. The only person I feel like taking advice from now is a dead imperialist whose own son was swallowed alive by mud in the trenches of WWI. Oh, I know he was impossibly naive. But he paid for it, and by God he suffered for it. So here goes:

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 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 fill the unforgiving minute
with sixty seconds worth of distance run,
Yours is the earth and everything that’s in it,
and –what is more — you’ll be a man, my son!

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