And each forgets, as he strips and runs With a brilliant, fitful pace, It's the steady, quiet, plodding ones Who win in the lifelong race. And each forgets that his youth has fled, Forgets that his prime is past, Till he stands one day, with a hope that's dead, In the glare of the truth at last.
Robert W. ServiceCarry on! Carry on! Fight the good fight and true; Believe in you mission, greet life with a cheer.
Robert W. ServiceIt isn't the mountain ahead that wears you out; it's the grain of sand in your shoe.
Robert W. Service