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Showing posts from March, 2010

"If—" by Rudyard Kipling

There's no particular reason for me posting this poem, but I often find the opening lines resonating in my mind. I think that often, at work, or perhaps when I am in places like Uganda, or even when the Underground unexpectedly terminates at Parson's Green en route to Wimbledon, those two lines, and the rest of the poem too, can be applied to aspects of my character.
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 imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a …