“Every man dies. Not every man really lives.” 

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 trouble’s a ton, or a trouble’s an ounce, 
Or a trouble is what you make it, 
And it isn’t the fact that you’re hurt that counts, 
But only how did you take it? 

You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what’s that! 
Come up with a smiling face.
It’s nothing against you to fall down flat, 
But to lie there-that’s disgrace.
The harder you’re thrown, why the higher you bounce
Be proud of your blackened eye! 
It isn’t the fact that you’re licked that counts; 
It’s how did you fight-and why?