For lack of a better ending...

There's a gentle sigh which descends like billowing silk upon the soul that accepts its coming death. It's a gentle pocket of air in the turbulence of everyday life. The silk settles around you as if it has been drifting towards the earth forever and has finally found it's target. The flag of defeat has been mercifully dropped and, in this action, the loss is not so bad. Defeat itself is defeated by the embrace of defeat, and death is swallowed up in the victory of insuring that we shall not flag or fail. We shall go on to the end. We shall fight in foreign lands, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our home, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the shore, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender.