I read a lot of biography.
As of late:
FDR ... Eisenhower ... Lucius Clay ... and now the diaries of Drew Pearson.
They were called by their history - the accidents of life: birth, parents, education and times. They were committed, sometimes beyond their own understanding of how they got there. But the Fates, God, History, "the flying fickle finger of fate," took them along for the ride of their life.
Juggling convictions and passion with the need to compromise - the fine art of politics.
They compromised where needed, for the larger good, as best they understood it, and stood firm when compromise would have seriously undermined the common good they sought - whether it be winning a war against Fascism or digging into the schemes and double-dealings of the powerful.
Sometimes, the compromise proved good ... and sometimes they regretted the allurement of compromise, knowing that they surrendered something of themselves in order to have a little peace and get out of the noise of controversy.
In all things, a price ...
In all things, no rules ...
But to search the heart and mind and see where we land, and if we're in a place to make a difference, do it, and if there's a price to be paid, pay it.
And so it goes ... in this world of cabbages and kings.
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