All men and women dream, but not equally. Those who dream at night, in the dusty recesses of their mind awake to find that it was vanity. But the dreamers of the day, are dangerous men and women, for they may act their dream, with open eyes, to make it possible.

Only the disciplined ones are free in life. If you are undisciplined you are a slave to your moods, you are a slave to your passions.

In that critical moment, about two-thirds of the way through the race, when you’re hurting more than you’ve ever hurt before, your job is simple: you say, “yes.” You don’t worry if you can maintain it, you say, “yes,” and extend the game a little longer, and a little longer, giving yourself a shot.

It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself in a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat.