If you saw Atlas, the giant who holds the world on his shoulders, if you saw that he stood, blood running down his chest, his knees buckling, his arms trembling but still trying to hold the world aloft with the last of his strength, and the greater the effort the heavier the world bore down upon his shoulders -- what would you tell him to do? I don't know. What could he do? What would you tell him? To shrug.
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When was a lad, there was only one Germany, Latvia, Estonia, Khazachstan, Eusbekistan, Bosnia, Herzegovina; and then it all changed. And then it all changed back again. Those changes cost the lives of 66 million people. But it didn't cost me a penny -- 'cause I kept my old atlas.
Old Man
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Nobody picks on a strong man.
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