BREATHES there the man with soul so dead
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my native land!
Whose heart has ne’er within him burned,
As home his footsteps he hath turned
From wandering on a foreign strand?
If such there breathe, go, mark him well;
For him no minstrel raptures swell;
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim,
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.
Sir Walter Scott, Lay of the Last Minstrel, Canto VI
One of the greatest descriptions I’ve ever heard applied to liberals is that they are tourists. They don’t actually belong anywhere. Barry Sotero epitomized this as much as anyone. He sought to destroy what he had no part in building up.
Money Quote: “. . . the shallow self-righteousness of the the left-wing intelligentsia.”