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Writer's picturejulia marshall

Running Through Hell

There is a quote I heard recently from Winston Churchill that basically says, “if you are running through hell, keep going.” And while I can enjoy the poetry of the words, it is terribly difficult for me not to stand up in the audience and yell, “can you please be more specific!”

Yes, I am one of those people. I, among my kind would actually find it interesting to discuss how many angels could fit on the head of a pin. I, among others cut off the same block, want to know what words mean and specifically how my interlocutors use those same words when they are discussing the state of affairs with me. And if I were in attendance at any event where the good Mr. Churchill uttered those words then I would consider it my duty to bring it to a screeching halt.

“If one is in hell, Mr. Churchill, then running is pointless,” I might begin, “first because hell, like all of the afterlife, is something that must be beyond time and space; and second, because hell is more like a cavity found in a tooth than a road that I am driving on. The tooth cannot escape what is missing even if the road can eventually come to an end.”

Having finished with my soap box I could only imagine the looks. That is not what he meant, the neighbour to my left might mumble with some disappointment. Then why would he say it? I would respond in a similar tone.  Words matter, even in poetry.

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