neither fate nor foil mortal wound or toil can hope, undo this humble spirit or curst, like icarus, halt the ascension inferno of sincere introspection reach exceeding grasp or ambition progress once becomes ideals intuition to, brick by brick, lay the foundation and plant trees in whos shadow you will never rest all these the principles of mankinds very best. Lead the way you ghosts, you scoundrels and rough men gentled by history and yore neither fate nor foil mortal wound or toil can stand but trial to our endeavor the woods before that did not breach or stand aside for (neither) kings nor might focused like the stars burning with earnest yearnings or torch to blaze a path never walked before Each of us was meant for more.