Most Gracious ILites, Thanks for your enthusiastic support and great participation. Some of your responses have made me think much more than what I did when I originally conceived my post. I think now a pattern has been set. We have heavy lessons on emotions in the middle of the week. And in the week-end, we have some great works to refresh our mind and prepare it for the heavy lesson next week. But don't for a moment think that I am giving lessons and you are taking it. We are learning together and in many instances I end up learning much more than you. So in honouring the pattern I am posting this week, the Father of All Poems, IF by Rudyard Kipling. A poem which got its author the Nobel Prize and a poem which is sure to give us all something more precious than that – a good, happy life. From the mother of all poems to the father, the chronological distance is a mere week. But it may take lifetimes to appreciate these great works. I am sure that like Desiderata this will also find a place in your heart. Happy reading and a happy week-end, Varalotti IF (A Poem By Rudyard Kipling) 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 impostors just the same If you can bear to hear the truth you have spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you give your life to,broken, And stoop to build 'em up with worn out tools: If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss And lose , and start again at your beginnings And never breathe 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 every thing that's in it And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!