“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.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

If the poem sounds familiar, it’s because it’s Invictus, by William Ernest Henley. You probably know it most recently from the movie of the same title.

On a night like tonight, which feels as if we lost Ted Kennedy again through the collective idiocy of several dozen people, it’s worth reading and keeping in our hearts and minds.

One last thing: Keep Calm & Carry On.

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