"Truce
Take heart, for now the battle is half over,
We have not shamed our sires;
Pride, the lone pennon, ravelled by the storm-wind
Stands in the sunset fires.
It may be, with the coming-on of evening
We shall be granted unassailed repose,
And what is left of dusk will be less darkness
Than luminous air, on which the crescent glows."
—Sara Teasdale
"between sharks and spades you are in a sad pickle and peril, poor lad"
—@mobydickatsea.bsky.social
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