“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 unbowed...
It matters not how strait the gait,How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate;I am the captain of my soul.”
(William Ernest Henley, 1849-1903, English poet, playwright and editor, from ‘Invictus’, more precisely titled: Echoes, No4, In Memoriam RT Hamilton Bruce, written in 1888.)
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