"Life, as it is."
I have lived for over 40 years and I've seen "life, as it is": pain, misery, cruelty.
I've heard all of the voices of God's noblest creature: moans from bundles of filth in the streets.
I've been a soldier and a slave.
I've seen my comrades fall in battle or die more slowly under the lash in Africa.
I've held them in their last moments; these were men who saw "life, as it is".
But they died despairing. No glory. No bray of last words. Only their eyes filled with confusion, questioning "Why?"
I do not think they were asking why they were dying, but why they had ever been born.
Life itself seems lunatic. Who knows where madness lies?
Perhaps to be too practical is madness.
To surrender dreams, this may be madness;
To seek treasure where there is only trash.
Too much sanity may be madness.
But maddest of all, to see "life, as it is" and not as it should be!
("Man of La Mancha")