Doing Your Best and Tips on Continuous Improvement(mostlymaths.net)

  Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,  
  Creeps in this petty pace from day to day  
  To the last syllable of recorded time,  
  And all our yesterdays have lighted fools  
  The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!  
  Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player  
  That struts and frets his hour upon the stage  
  And then is heard no more: it is a tale  
  Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,  
  Signifying nothing.

  `Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
  Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
  All mimsy were the borogoves,
  And the mome raths outgrabe.

  "Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
  The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
  Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
  The frumious Bandersnatch!"

  He took his vorpal sword in hand:
  Long time the manxome foe he sought --
  So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
  And stood awhile in thought.

  And, as in uffish thought he stood,
  The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
  Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
  And burbled as it came!

  One, two! One, two! And through and through
  The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
  He left it dead, and with its head
  He went galumphing back.

  "And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
  Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
  O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
  He chortled in his joy.

  `Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
  Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
  All mimsy were the borogoves,
  And the mome raths outgrabe.