If IF If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you But make allowance for their doubting too, If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don't deal in lies, Or being hated, don't give way to hating, And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise: If you can dream--and not make dreams your master, If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools: If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breath a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!" If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you; If all men count with you, but none too much, If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds' worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son! --Rudyard Kipling
Re: If If you can keep your kill-death-ratio when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all medics doubt you But make allowance for their doubting too, If you can wait for an uber and not be tired by waiting, Or being shouted at in ventrilo, don't deal in shouting, Or being hated, don't give way to hating, And yet don't look too good, nor shovel demomen too much: If you can spam--and not make spamming your master, If you can rush--and not make rushing your aim; If you can meet with Winn0rz and phail And treat those two impostors with the same "gg"; If you can bear to hear the rush you've planned Twisted by knaves to make a trap for noobs, Or watch the sentries you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out wrench: If you can make one heap of all your base And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss (wtf is that?), And teh lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breath a word about your WOW account; If you can force your mouse and keyboard and headhones To serve your turn long after she has gone to bed, And so hold on when there is now no sex for you Except when she says: "GET OFF THE PC AND COME TO BED!11oneeleventy" If you can crit rocket a crowd and keep your virtue, Or walk with a permanent medic buddie--nor lose the skill touch, If neither pyros nor sticky bombs can hurt you; If all frags count with you, but none too much, If you can fill the last minute With sixty seconds' worth of rushing run, Yours is the Server and everyone that's in it, And--which is more--you'll be a Soldier, my son!
Re: If Cro-Mag that's epic, nice one! :o If you can make itsy-bitsy-teeny baby team cry, then you are Heavy my comrade! :!:
Re: If I the person especially not penetrating into poetry, but went past and should prohonour. I translated by three techniques. The sense is extremely clear. I have already tried to suspect English that all completeness to understand - it has turned out. I read and do not cry nearly... About that to not lose courage
