There is no chance,
          no destiny,
          no fate,
Can circumvent or hinder
          or control
The firm resolve of a
           determined soul,
Gifts count for nothing;
           will alone is great;
All things give way before it,
           soon or late.

What obstacle can stay the
           mighty force
Of the sea-seeking river in its
           course,
Or cause the ascending orb of
           day to wait?
Each well-born soul must win
          what it deserves.

Let the fool prate of luck.

The fortunate is he whose
           earnest purpose never swerves,
Whose slightest action
           or inaction serves
The one great aim.

Why, even Death stands still,
           And waits an hour sometimes
For such a will.

 -Ella Wheeler Wilcox