Advice is a dangerous gift, even from the wise to the wise, and all courses may run ill.

Over the field rang his clear voice calling: ‘Death! Ride, ride to ruin and the world’s ending!

I am rather tired, and no longer young enough to pillage the night to make up for the deficit of hours in the day..." JRR Tolkien, Letter # 174

Much of the same sort of degraded and filthy talk can still be heard among the orc-minded; dreary and repetitive with hatred and contempt, too long removed from good to retain even verbal vigour, save in the ears of those to whom only the squalid sounds strong.

He stands not alone. You would die before your stroke fell.

And then alas! I let the matter reset, watching and waiting only, as we have too often done.

Aiya Earendil Elenion Ancalima!