To battle

Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, Disguise fair nature with hard-favour’d rage; summon up all the coping systems and prepare for the siege. To be, or not to be? There are more thing in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy. Get thee to a nunnery. Head down, charge forward and damn the consequences. I’ll put a girdle around the earth in forty minutes.

This is our final stand. What happens here will echo through the ages. Regardless of outcome, they will know that we fought with honor. That we fought for the freedom and safety of our people.

Remember, heroes, fear is your greatest enemy in these befouled halls. Steel your heart and your soul will shine brighter than a thousand suns. The enemy will falter at the sight of you. They will fall as the light of righteousness envelops them!

We will not go quietly into the night! We will not vanish without a fight! We’re going to live on, we’re going to survive.

Once I was afraid, I was petrified. I have learned over the years that when one’s mind is made up, this diminishes fear; knowing what must be done does away with fear.

Do not go gentle into that good night; rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more. In peace there’s nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility: But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger.

When there is no peril in the fight there is no glory in the triumph.

Hinkles, hand me that whirring bronze gizmo and some fresh spring water. Cogspin, toss me that dirty trogg cloth and a handful of copper bolts.

What’s your favourite quote? and do you recognise these? It’s time for me to drag out these and any other coping systems I have to get me safely through the next few weeks and months.

Not waving but drowning? But screw your courage to the sticking place and we’ll not fail. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps on this petty pace from day to day to the last syllable of recorded time, and all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player that frets and struts his way upon the stage and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

But does it matter? It matters to the starfish.

 

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