when you think about how often it all goes wrong again and again you begin to look at the walls and yearn to stay inside because the streets are the same old movie and the heroes all end up like old movie heroes: fat ass, fat face and the brain of a lizard.
it’s no wonder that a wise man will climb a 10,000 foot mountain and sit there waiting living off of berry bush leaves rather than bet it all on two dimpled knees that surely won’t last a lifetime and 2 times out of 3 won’t remain even for one long night.
mountains are hard to climb. thus the walls are your friends. learn your walls.
what they have given us out there in the streets is something that even children get tired of.
stay within your walls. they are the truest love.
build where few others build. it’s the last way left.
And what, in fact, is dignity? In those Who have it pure, it is the soul’s repose, The base of character—no mere reserve That springs from pride, or want of mental nerve. The dignity that wealth, or station, breeds, Or in the breast on base emotion feeds, Is easy weighed, and easy to be sized—A bastard virtue, much to be despised.
True dignity is like a summer tree. Beneath whose shade both beast, and bird, and bee, When by the heated skies oppressed, may come, And feel, in its magnificence, at home; Or rather like a mountain which forgets Itself in its own greatness, and so lets Vast armies fuss and fight upon its sides, While high in clouds its peaceful summit hides, And from the voiceless crest of glistening snow, Pours trickling fatness on the fields below; Repellant force, that daunts obtrusive wrong, And woos the timid steps of right along; And hence a garb which magistrates prepare, When called to judge, and really seem to wear. In framing character on whate’er plan, ‘Tis always needed to complete the man, The job quite done, and Dignity without, Is like an apple pie, the fruit left out.