We fight and our thunder rolls. It rolls away and we lose. We must always fight, no matter the odds of our destruction.

I thought, boastfully, that they never could break my heart. I was resolved that they should not. I did believe that I could, and would, charge them with being the mockery they were, until I died. But I am worn out. How long have I been wearing out, I don't know; I seemed to break down in an hour. I hope they may never come to hear of it. I hope everybody, here, will lead them to believe that I died defying them, consistently and perseveringly, as I did through so many years.