The battle-hardened men of the past gaze at us in silent contemplation through clouds of cigarette smoke. The lines on their faces are like medals of honor — wrinkled badges of courage. I run a hand across my own, feeling the smooth surface, and wonder if I’d have it in me.
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Beautifully written, Justin! I wonder the same sometimes.
I'd read a few lines from Ulysses:
"Though much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."
And I feel inspired.....temporarily!
Brilliant!