He prayed the poem Invictus:
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 bludgeons of chance.
My head is bloodied but unbowed.
In this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade;
Yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
It matters not how straight the gate
How charged with punishment the scroll.
I am the master of my fate
I am the captain of my soul.