And is it worth it? After all? The submission for judgment? The ascension through the ranks? The Striving for Excellence 40 Hours a week? Is there any meaning to the breath that escapes my lips? Or is it simply habit? The sort of thing I do to pass the time? If I cannot be a warrior in terms of physical pain, surely I am a 4-Star General of the Destructions Emotional. And if I cannot exist in a time when the sword has no meaning other than symbolic, then surely, I, the most vague, am a metaphoric swordsmaster.
“Good grief” is an odd virtually nonsensical thing to say. Damn you Charlie Brown.