There is no chance, no destiny, no fate, <br />Can circumvent or hinder or control <br />The firm resolve of a determined soul. <br />Gifts count for nothing; will alone is great; <br />All things give way before it, soon or late. <br />What obstacle can stay the mighty force <br />Of the sea-seeking river in its course, <br />Or cause the ascending orb of day to wait? <br />Each well-born soul must win what it deserves. <br />Let the fool prate of luck. The fortunate <br />Is he whose earnest purpose never swerves, <br />Whose slightest action or inaction serves <br />The one great aim. Why, even Death stands still, <br />And waits an hour sometimes for such a will.<br /><br />Ella Wheeler Wilcox<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/will-2/
