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Posted by: bradley ( )
Date: September 24, 2023 10:00PM


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.

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Posted by: Dave the Atheist ( )
Date: September 24, 2023 10:30PM

Satanists like the word invictus for some reason.

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Posted by: Phantom Shadow ( )
Date: September 26, 2023 12:04AM

I memorized this in the 8th grade. We had to memorize several poems. Decades later I still remember it.

I had a few really great teachers growing up in SLC. Just enough to have a life-long effect on the choices I made back when I was so innocent and young. "I am the master of my fate."

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Posted by: dagny ( )
Date: September 26, 2023 11:34AM

You were classy. I memorized this one in school and can't forget it:

The Purple Cow

I never saw a Purple Cow, I never hope to see one; But I can tell you, anyhow, I'd rather see than be one.

Gelett Burgess (1866-1951)

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Posted by: Caffiend nli ( )
Date: September 26, 2023 08:38PM

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Posted by: elderolddog ( )
Date: September 26, 2023 10:41PM

We had to memorize 100 lines of poetry in 7th grade.

First, I memorized the most famous of Hamlet's soliloquies, the "to be or not to be" one...  But it is only 33 lines.

So after reciting it to Mrs. Anderson, I went to work on "Horatio at the Bridge." I didn't then count how many lines it had, but it looked long.  The next time I told her I was ready to recite, she asked what poem I'd selected. When I told her, she gave a look of, "Wow, I'm impressed!"

So I began.  And then, I stopped after the 67th line and sat down.  There was a brief look of confusion on her face...and then thunderclouds gathered on her face...  

"So, I'm guessing that you have recited 100 lines of memorized poetry to me, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You did exactly 100 lines, and no more..."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Do you know what happened, how it ends?"

"No, ma'am..."

"Aren't you curious?"

"Ummm, well, he either lived or died there on the bridge.  I want to suppose that he lived.  It makes sense that he succeeded because Rome wasn't conquered then, so he must have succeeded, but it probably cost him his life."

"And if he did die, you'd rather not know?"

"Yes, ma'am.  I don't like sad endings.  I hated 'Ol Yeller'..."

"Oh...  You'll be happy to know that Horatio and two others who helped hold the bridge survived despite the odds because the bridge over the Tiber collapsed. The other two Romans scampered off just before it did; Horatio went into the swollen river in full armor but survived and, along with becoming the stuff of legends, apparently lived a long and happy life."

Wasn't that nice of her to tell me that?  

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