What I've seen on my rounds is that if you are lucky enough to have the opportunity to reflect at the end of a life, then love is revealed as the great currency. It's the thing. The treasury. It's what mattered...
	How well did I love? whom did I love?, and how was love central to the life that I made for myself?
	...When the lots are counted, when we are gathered in, we will find that it was love that mattered. Love expressed, given, received, fought for. So for those of us fighting right now, I say; keep going. As a culture, as an individual, believe in the full life that is your bequeathed inheritance, not the subterranean half-life that terror and impoverished minded bullies will try and spike your wine with. You are too good for that.
Truth is within ourselves; it takes no rise   
From outward things, what'ere you may believe.   
There is an inmost centre in us all,   
Where truth abides in fulness; and around,   
Wall upon wall, the gross flesh hems it in,   
This perfect, clear perception -- which is truth ...   
and to KNOW,   
Rather consists in opening out a way   
Whence the imprisoned splendor may escape,   
Than in effecting entry for a light   
Supposed to be without.