You can drive at 16, go to war at 18, drink at 21, and retire at 65. So who can say what age you have to be to find your true love?
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.
Look not mournfully into the past. It comes not back again.
Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed.
I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul.
We must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures.
Out of the night that covers me, Black is 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.
There is a time in the affairs of men, Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune.
Love bears it out even to the edge of doom.
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