It's not uncommon to think of death and taxes at these moments, when they present their certitudes to solicit my surrender, or my enlistment. Don't tell me that an good idea cannot be lost -- a thousand brilliant drops of insight and beauty disappear each day with the bang of a screen door.
And do I love them any less because the darkness feels dark? Because I feel a separate pull to know them, to know myself, and to struggle like a warrior who, at the pivotal moment of battle yields to the pull of the Valkyries, knows the righteousness of his sacrifice, and yet weeps at his own death.
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