(image credits to The Traveling Philosopher)

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 unbow’d.

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.
— Life and Death (Echoes), Book of Verses, William Ernest Henley

2 Comments Add yours

  1. Jeremy says:

    “I am the master of my fate:
    I am the captain of my soul.”

    Love that.

    1. clxrrr says:

      heh. for a typical Patriarchy-abiding Victorian writer, Henley definitely knew what he was talking about. 🙂

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