It's Not The Critic Who

Every Child Has Inside Him An Aching Void For Excitement And If We Don't Fill It With Something Which Is Exciting And Interesting And Good For Him, He Will Fill It With Something Which Is Exciting And Interesting And Which Isn't Good For Him.

It Is Not The Critic Who Counts; Not The Man Who Points Out How The Strong Man Stumbles, Or Where The Doer Of Deeds Could Have Done Them Better. The Credit Belongs To The Man Who Is Actually In The Arena, Whose Face Is Marred By Dust And Sweat And Blood; Who Strives Valiantly; . . . Who At Best Knows In The End The Triumph Of High Achievement, And Who At Worst, If He Fails, At Least Fails While Daring Greatly.

Among The Wise And High-minded People Who In Self-respecting And Genuine Fashion Strive Earnestly For Peace, There Are The Foolish Fanatics Always To Be Found In Such A Movement And Always Discrediting It The Men Who Form The Lunatic Fringe In All Reform Movements.

Only Those Are Fit To Live Who Do Not Fear To Die And None Are Fit To Die Who Have Shrunk From The Joy Of Life And The Duty Of Life.

War With Evil; But Show No Spirit Of Malignity Toward The Man Who May Be Responsible For The Evil. Put It Out Of His Power To Do Wrong.