>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 impostors 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 so hold on when there is 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!
Ok. You've made me do it.First reply, I just broke this thread's hymen. Anyone else who posts after me is getting my sloppy seconds, my leftovers.Just remember that the first reply is the most special reply and you'll never experience this thread the way I did and this thread will never feel the way it felt about me about you.It's over, you might as well just go post on Reddit and talk about how much of a "man" you are for replying on a thread that I pump and dumped. Have fun with my scraps, cucks
And did those feet in ancient time, Walk upon Englands mountains green: And was the holy Lamb of God, On Englands pleasant pastures seen! And did the Countenance Divine, Shine forth upon our clouded hills? And was Jerusalem builded here, Among these dark Satanic Mills? Bring me my Bow of burning gold: Bring me my Arrows of desire: Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold: Bring me my Chariot of fire! I will not cease from Mental Fight, Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand: Till we have built Jerusalem, In Englands green & pleasant Land.
