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“Men are breakable, Rosalie,” she said in her calm, serene voice. “They just hide the cracks better than we women do.”
“Life, Rosie,” he said gently, “is not about goin’ it alone. It’s about finding the right people to share it with who will make it better when it’s good and be there to hold you steady when it’s not.”
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.
