Edmund Vance Cooke

"To deftly do what many dimly think; To fund a feeling for the world to borrow; To turn a tear to printer’s ink; To make a sonnet of a sorrow."

"The rake upon a wanton wastes the wiles Which dazzle innocence. The nettle guards itself; the lily smiles Unheedful of defence."

"This trouble seems to be Chief in theology: Each thinks the hymn should be,— Nearer, my God, to Thee."

"Did you tackle that trouble that came your way With a resolute heart and cheerful? Or hide your face from the light of day With a craven soul and fearful? Oh, a troubles a ton, or a troubles an ounce, Or a trouble is what you make it, And it isnt the fact that youre hurt that counts, But only how did you take it?You are beaten to earth? Well, well, whats that? Come up with a smiling face. Its nothing against you to fall down flat, But to lie there—thats disgrace. The harder youre thrown, why the higher you bounce; Be proud of your blackened eye! It isnt the fact that youre licked that counts, Its how did you fight—and why?And though you be done to the death, what then? If you battled the best you could, If you played your part in the world of men, Why, the Critic will call it good. Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce, And whether hes slow or spry, It isnt the fact that youre dead that counts, But only how did you die?"

"The man who fears to go his way alone, But follows where the greater number tread, Should hasten to his rest beneath a stone; The great majority of men are dead."