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From Wikipen

There are no ill winds, there are just bad sailors.
Riding the crest of the wave, or maybe the hollow.
Life is an ocean, deserves a capital O, and we, little boats with a weak sail.
You might meet a fish or an octopus, a desert island or a crowded land.
Just don’t forget, raise your head, there are more waves, more promised lands.
And if the Earth is round you will meet them again.
May you keep the smile in times of terror
May you not forget the tears in times of joy
There might not be a heaven, but there sure is
Out there, somewhere, a rock higher than the sea, and on its shore we’ll meet again.