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Looking for language that might help, thinking on Xi’s stones for crossing a river, slippery, wet, partially submeged. Here are some of mine. Are we midway in the course of this life? Ours? Our species? Finding ourselves lost in dark pollution Comedy followed by Inferno Don Quixote leads the way Hamlet keeps time Joyce history is a nightmare From which I am trying to awake To forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race. Eliot sees the leaning Yeats says mere anarchy Will says There is a time in the affairs of men Time and tide wait for no man. What do you say?