Sir Ernest Shackleton

There once was a mouse who lived in a tavern. One night the mouse found a leaky barrel of beer, and he drank all he could hold. When the mouse had finished, he sat up, twirled his whiskers, and looked arround arrogantly. "Now then," he said, "where's that damned cat?"

For scientific leadership give me Scott; for swift and efficient travel, Amundsen; but when you are in a hopeless situation, when there seems no way out, get down on your knees and pray for Shackleton.

I am rather tired. I suppose it is the strain. I long for some rest, free from thought.

Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.