Do not be saddened by our sullied and blackened shores. Do not forsake your dream, for the tocsin will always ring for those unmindful of origin, who bear convenient constructs, writhen mores, all weighed by the dunnage of fear. Or worse. Strive, persist, and wait and wait and wait until voices rise and the pendulum descends. For the lady still shines, clear-eyed and steadfast. She still wants you, still needs you. Your soul, your yearning heart.