Only be true; and then the rest is small.
The praise of men, the pride of place and name,
The gilded mask, the soft applauding call
They perish like a torch's fleeting flame.

But truth once chosen  burns with inner light,
And though it cost you peace, or ease, or breath,
It crowns you not with laurel, but with right,
And bears you faithful even unto death. - R.G.S