Vansh

“Vae Victis"
Written by R.J. Williamson

What gods hast thou, that bow before the might of mortal men?
Surrendered now in ignorance; enslaved before the pen
Of magistrates and potentates less powerful than thee:
What makers vested strength within the legs that bend the knee?

What then of their countenance, their handiwork to see?
Cry then! Cry out unto them and witness unto me!

What chains and shackles hobble thee – what burden giveth pause?
What fearsome power maketh thee unworthy of thy cause?
What of the faith and principles thou surely must despise,
To supplicate in deference before a throne of lies?

Count for me the years before the soul of freedom dies.
Art thou now a servant and a slave in thine own eyes?

What fools are we, who in false grace before accusers bowed
And in our hubris and our haste their tyranny allowed.”
― R.J. Williamson

“I have a vevy gweat fwiend in Wome called Biggus Dickus”
― Monty Python, Monty Python: Life of Brian Monty

“Every moment waited is a moment wasted....”
― David Deida, The Way of the Superior Man: A Spiritual Guide to Mastering the Challenges of Women, Work, and Sexual Desire

“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 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 everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!”
― Rudyard Kipling, If: A Father's Advice to His Son