"I fall upon the thorns of life. I bleed."
Written October 25, 1819. Poet? Percy Bysse Shelley.
How do you react to that line? With revulsion or pity?
I can't pity whiners. An obvious defect.
Is there a purpose or value to WHINING? Are we made better off for it? "Woe is me. Poor me. No one likes me. Everyone is out to get me."
I guess I just have a cold cold heart. I say you fall you bleed you get up tending to the wound and move on. QUIETLY. SILENTLY. Tough old dame.
