There’s something sublime about wallowing in the sentimental cool breeze of defeatism. And no- I’m not singing a sad song. I’m saying, well- Think of it this way: You could either be successful- or be US.
Triumphalism lobs missiles at arches and collapses bridges to tomorrow that this city, the city I love, needs. Being right is not the same thing as getting anywhere good. And being the smartest person has never made a person guaranteed to win a fight.
BRUTUS Another general shout!
I do believe that these applauses are
For some new honors that are heaped on Caesar.
Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world
Like a Colossus, and we petty men
Walk under his huge legs and peep about
To find ourselves dishonorable graves.
Men at some time are masters of their fates.
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
“Brutus” and “Caesar”—what should be in that
Why should that name be sounded more than
Write them together, yours is as fair a name;
Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well;
Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with ’em,
“Brutus” will start a spirit as soon as “Caesar.”
Now, in the names of all the gods at once,
Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed
That he is grown so great? Age, thou art shamed!
Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods!
When went there by an age, since the great flood,
But it was famed with more than with one man?
When could they say, till now, that talked of Rome,
That her wide walks encompassed but one man?
Now is it Rome indeed, and room enough
When there is in it but one only man.
O, you and I have heard our fathers say
There was a Brutus once that would have brooked
Th’ eternal devil to keep his state in Rome
As easily as a king.
WHAT I LACK, IS A COMMUNITY, SOME FRIENDS, TO MAKE ME FEEL THAT THESE NOISY YAPPERS AT MY ANKLES ARE NO MORE REAL THAN MY OWN DREAMS. THIS IS WHY I FEAR THEM. THIS IS WHY I GIVE THEM HEED.