I never feel sorry for myself anymore. Already I've made a good run of things, putting me mostly proud and happy today. I've made colossal mistakes, and regret them horribly, and will make loads more. But I've made my choices; and I don't walk with my head in my hands now, nor will I ever again, whatever comes. And there is a call; people depend on me: I have responsibilities; from far off, I'm a small man in a mesh of relationships, but right here I have my inner engine, with energy still to be tapped; and I have chances still unknown. And even still, perhaps, You, Unknown.