I’m still trying to win. And I’m not dead. And the idea that I’m trying to win against such hopeless odds to me is not unrealistic, but it is tragic, I think, if things don’t change. If something other than corporate capitalism doesn’t win.
“When first I saw thee ‘neath the silver mist,
Ruling thy bark of painted sandal-wood,
Did any know thee? By the golden sails
That clasped the ribbands of that azure sea,
Did any know thee save my heart alone?”