KyRose,
I'll leave this thread for others to debate.
But I'll leave with the words of a poem written by a young woman, at the end of WWI. Her name is Wilfred Owens.
These are the concluding words from her poem, "Dulce et Decourum Est"
"If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori."
Peace to you, sister.
Truth to you brothers that see.
Wisdom to all that see the insanity.
Let those that have ears, hear.
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