committing every day of our lives
a hundred indecencies and cruelties,
imaginary rulers of our little fiefdoms,
tainted by prejudice and conceit,
unable to see ourselves for what we are,
terrified of what we don't know,
and we know relatively nothing.
But let us be happy in spite of it, maybe even giddy,
taking pleasure in the small acts of living
to make life endurable, and to keep ourselves
new, tender, and quick.
–conflating the thoughts of Elizabeth Bishop and George Herbert.
