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. - William Ernest Henley

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

I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.

Friends . . old friends. . . One sees how it ends. A woman looks Or a man tells lies, And the pleasant brooks And the quiet skies, Ruined with brawling And caterwauling, Enchant no more As they did before; And so it ends with friends.

Life is (I think) a blunder and a shame.

You played and sang a snatch of song,
A song that all-too well we knew;
But whither had flown the ancient wrong;
And was it really I and you?
O, since the end of life's to live
And pay in pence the common debt,
What should it cost us to forgive
Whose daily task is to forget?