I give the fight up: let there be an end, a privacy, an obscure nook for me. I want to be forgotten even by God.
One who never turned his back but marched breast forward, never doubted clouds would break, Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph, Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, sleep to wake.
No, when the fight begins within himself, / A man's worth something.
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