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Image of the quote is loading... SaveSave Thick is the darkness-- Sunward, O, sunward!Rough is the highway-- Onward, still onward!Dawn harbors surely East of the shadows.Facing us somewhere Spread the sweet meadows.Upward and forward! Time will restore us:Light is above us, Rest is before us. - Quote by William Ernest Henley

Thick is the darkness– Sunward, O, sunward!Rough is the highway– Onward, still onward!Dawn harbors surely East of the shadows.Facing us somewhere Spread the sweet meadows.Upward and forward! Time will restore us:Light is above us, Rest is before us.

William Ernest Henley
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More Quotes From William Ernest Henley

Bland as a Jesuit sober as a hymn.
William Ernest Henley
Bland as a Jesuit sober as a hymn.
William Ernest Henley
I am the master of my fate:I am the captain of my soul.
William Ernest Henley
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.
William Ernest Henley
Out of the starless night that covers me, (O tribulation of the wind that rolls!) Black as the cloud of some tremendous spell, The susurration of the sighing sea Sounds like the sobbing whisper of two souls That tremble in a passion of farewell.To the desires that trebled life in me, (O melancholy of the wind that rolls!) The dreams that seemed the future to foretell, The hopes that mounted herward like the sea, To all the sweet things sent on happy souls, I cannot choose but bid a mute farewell.And to the girl who was so much to me (O lamentation of this wind that rolls!) Since I may not the life of her compel, Out of the night, beside the sounding sea, Full of the love that might have blent our souls, A sad, a last, a long, supreme farewell.
William Ernest Henley
O, it's die we must, but it's live we can, And the marvel of earth and sun Is all for the joy of woman and man And the longing that makes them one.
William Ernest Henley
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.
William Ernest Henley
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