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The Little Chap Who Follows Me

A  careful  man  I  want  to  be,
A  little  fellow  follows  me;
I  do  not  dare  to  go  astray
For  fear  he’ll  go  the  self-same  way.

I  cannot  once  escape  his  eyes.
Whate’er  he  sees  me  do  he  tries.
Like  ME  he  says  he’s  going  to  be-
That  little  chap  who  follows  me.

I  must  remember  as  I  go
Through  summer  suns  and  winter  snows,
I  am  building  for  the  years  to  be-
That  little  chap  who  follows  me.

Happy

“When I was 5 years old, my mother always told me that happiness was the key to life. When I went to school, they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wrote down ‘happy’. They told me I didn’t understand the assignment, and I told them they didn’t understand life.” – John Lennon

Fear

“Everything you want is on the other side of fear.” – Jack Canfield

Colin Powell’s “Rules to Live By”

Colin Powell’s “Rules to Live By”
1. It ain’t as bad as you think. It will get better in the morning.
2. Get mad, then get over it.
3. Avoid having your ego so close to your position that, when your position fails, your ego fails with it.
4. It can be done!
5. Be careful what you choose. You may get it.
6. Don’t let adverse facts stand in the way of a good decision.
7. You can’t make someone else’s choices. You shouldn’t let someone else make yours.
8. Check small things.
9. Share credit.
10. Remain calm. Be kind.
11. Have a vision. Be demanding.
12. Don’t take counsel of your fears or naysayers.
13. Perpetual optimism is a force multiplier.

Do not go gentle into that good night

Do not go gentle into that good night

Dylan Thomas, 1914 – 1953

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.