Pain enters every human door,
It learns the house by name;
It leaves its shadow on the floor,
And asks us what we became.
One heart can raise a fist to night,
And make the wounded pay;
Another holds a small, hard light,
And keeps the dark at bay.
The same cold storm can split a tree,
Or teach its roots to cling;
What breaks the branch may secretly
Prepare the woods for spring.
The world can strike without a face,
And leave no reason clear;
Yet we can choose the road we place
Beyond the edge of fear.
A scar is neither crown nor chain,
It tells no final tale;
We may turn hurt to borrowed pain,
Or let compassion sail.
The villain makes his wound a law,
For every soul to bear;
The hero sees the hidden flaw,
And leaves more mercy there.
No one is spared the bitter test,
No soul walks free of flame;
But what we do with what has pressed
Upon us shapes our name.

…

DCG

“Heroes and villains always have the same backstory: pain.
The difference is what they choose to do about it.
The villain says, ‘The world hurt me; I’ll hurt it back.’
The hero says, ‘The world hurt me; I’m not going to let it hurt anybody else.’
Heroes use pain. Villains are used by it.”

—Alex Hormozi, drawing on an idea he attributes in part to Donald Miller.