My OperaTeddy Roosevelt
Wednesday, January 14, 2009 8:22:14 PM
It not the critic who counts. Not the one who points out how the strong man stumbled or how the doer of the deeds might have done better.
The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by blood sweat and dust, who strives valiantly but errs and comes short again and again because there is no human endeavor without shortcoming. The man who knows the great enthusiasms – the great devotions, and who, if he wins, knows the triumphs of high achievement and who, if his efforts are checkered by defeat, at least fails while daring greatly so that his place shall never be with those cold timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.
Teddy Roosevelt
The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by blood sweat and dust, who strives valiantly but errs and comes short again and again because there is no human endeavor without shortcoming. The man who knows the great enthusiasms – the great devotions, and who, if he wins, knows the triumphs of high achievement and who, if his efforts are checkered by defeat, at least fails while daring greatly so that his place shall never be with those cold timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.
Teddy Roosevelt
