When things go wrong as they sometimes will.
When the road you’re trudging seems all up hill.
When funds are low and the debts are high.
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh.
When care is pressing you down a bit.
Rest, if you must, but don’t you quit.
Life is queer with its twists and turns.
As everyone of us sometimes learns.
And many a failure turns about.
When he might have won had he stuck it out:
Don’t give up though the pace seems slow –
You may succeed with another blow.
Success is failure turned inside out –
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt
And you never can tell how close you are.
It may be near when it seems so far:
So stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit –
It’s when things seem worst that you must not quit.


- Author unknown

For Mom & Dad

The Don't Quit Poem was given to me
By my Dad at a low time in my life

I don't remember exactly when it was 

But I later learned that he carried it with him

While he fought the battle of his life against Hodgkins Disease

He endured radiation treatments and chemotherapy

Through it all, Mother was steadfast and strong

It is hard for me to comprehend how she coped

And we kids hardly knew the difference

They  added over 20 years onto his life  

He was diagnosed in his 30's and died at 53

This poem has helped me and other members

Of our family through some rough times

I will be leaning on it once again

As I fight for my life against Aplastic Anemia

Dad was a wonderful man who touched many lives

He was kind man who loved life to the fullest

And enjoyed every day on this earth and now rests in heaven

The night before he died a local church group

Sang Silent Night to him in his hospital room

And now every time I hear it

I know that he and Mom are watching over us

His last words on December 13, 1976

"Jesus Will Save Me"

Do Not Go Gentle into the Night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words have no forked lightning they
 

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their fragile deeds might have danced in a green bay,
 

Rage, Rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
 

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on a sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
 

Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

-Dylan Thomas