IT CAN BE DONE
The man who misses all the fun Is he who says, “It can’t be done.” In solemn pride he stands aloof And greets each venture with reproof. Had he the power he’d efface The history of the human race; We’d have no radio or motor cars, No street lit by electric stars; No telegraph or telephone, We’d linger in the age of stone. The world would sleep if things were run By men who say, “It can’t be done.” Author unknown
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