Thou wilt be what thou couldst be. Circumstance
Is but the toy of genius. When a soul
Burns with a god-like purpose to achieve,
All obstacles between it and its goal
Must vanish as the dew before the sun.
“If” is the motto of the dilettante
And idle dreamer; ’tis the poor excuse
Of mediocrity. The truly great
Know not the word, or know it but to scorn,
Else had Joan of Arc a peasant died,
Uncrowned by glory and by men unsung.
WHICH ARE YOU?
There are two kinds of people on earth to-day;
Just two kinds of people, no more, I say.
Not the sinner and saint, for it’s well understood
The good are half bad, and the bad are half good.
Not the rich and the poor, for to rate a man’s wealth
You must first know the state of his conscience and health.
Not the humble and proud, for, in life’s little span,
Who puts on vain airs is not counted a man.
Not the happy and sad, for the swift flying years
Bring each man his laughter, and each man his tears.
No; the two kinds of people on earth I mean
Are the people who lift, and the people who lean.
Wherever you go, you will find the earth’s masses
Are always divided in just these two classes.