Till you quit by Edgar Guest

Till you quit by Edgar Guest

No one is beaten till he quits,

No one is through till he stops,

No matter how hard Failure hits,

No matter how often he drops,

A fellow's not down till he lies

In the dust and refuses to rise.

Fate can slam him and bang him around,

And batter his frame till he's sore,

But he never can say that he's downed

While he bobs serenely for more.

A fellow's not dead till he dies,

Nor beaten till no longer he tries.

Now by Edwin Markham

Now by Edwin Markham

In an old city by the storied shores

Where the bright summit of Olympus soars

,A cryptic statue mounted towards the light-

Heel-winged, tip-toed and poised for instant flight.

“O statue, tell your name,” a traveler cried,

And solemnly the marble lips replied;

“Men call me Opportunity: I lift

My winged feet from earth to show how swift

My flight, how short my stay-

How Fate is ever waiting on the way.”

“But why that tossing ringlet on your brow?”

“That men may seize me any moment” Now,

NOW is my other name: to-day my date:

O traveler, to-morrow is too late!”

Moving forward by James W. Foley

Moving forward by James W. Foley

'Tis not by wishing that we gain the prize,

Nor yet by ruing,

But from our falling, learning to rise,

And tireless doing.

The idols broken, nor our tears and sighs,

May yet restore them.

Regret is only for fools; the wise

Look but before them.

Nor ever yet Success was wooed with tears;

To notes of gladness

Alone the fickle goddess turns her ears,

She hears not sadness.

Look not behind the: there is only dust

And vain regretting.

The lost tide ebbs; in the next flood thou must

Learn, by forgetting.

For the lost chances be ye not distressed

To endless weeping;

Be not the thrush that o'er the empty nest

Is vigil keeping.

But in new efforts our regrets today

To stillness whiling

Let us in some pure purpose find the way

To future smiling.

The worst word ever, Author Unknown

The worst word ever, Author Unknown

Can't is the worst word that's written or spoken

Doing more harm here than slander and lies;

On it is many a strong spirit broken,

And with it many a good purpose dies.

It springs from the lips of the thoughtless each morning

And robs us of courage we need through the day:

It rings in our ears like a timely-sent warning

And laughs when we falter and fall by the way.

Can't is the father of feeble endeaver,

The parent of terror and half-hearted work;

It weakens the efforts of artisans clever,

And makes of the toiler an indolent shirk.

It poisons the soul of the man with a vision,

It stifles in infancy many a plan;

It greets honest toiling with open derision

And mocks at the hopes and the dreams of a man.

Can't is a word none should speak without blushing;

To utter it should be a symbol of shame;

Ambition and courage it daily is crushing;

It blights a man's purpose and shortens his aim.

Despise it with all of your hatred of error;

Refuse it the lodgment it seeks in your brain;

Arm against it as a creature of terror,

And all that you dream of you some day shall gain.

Can't is the word that is foe to ambition,

An enemy ambushed to shatter your will;

Its prey is forever the man with a mission

And bows but to courage and patience and skill.

Hate it, with hatred that's deep and undying,

For once it is welcomed 'twill break any man;

Whatever the goal you are seeking, keep trying

And answer this demon by saying: “I can.”