"A million years?” persisted the jeering old man with keen, sadistic zest. “A half million? The frog is almost five hundred million years old. Could you really say with much certainty that America, with all its strength and prosperity, with its fighting man that is second to none, and with its standard of living that is the highest in the world, will last as long as… the frog?”
Actually the whole conversation, but that part works here.
Maybe there’s a bit of confession in my despair; I arrogantly assumed we would always hold steady.
Reminds me a bit of this passage from Catch-22:
"A million years?” persisted the jeering old man with keen, sadistic zest. “A half million? The frog is almost five hundred million years old. Could you really say with much certainty that America, with all its strength and prosperity, with its fighting man that is second to none, and with its standard of living that is the highest in the world, will last as long as… the frog?”
Actually the whole conversation, but that part works here.
Yup, that’s apropos. I remember my first trip to Europe, and realizing how the term “old” is situational. Americans do have irrational hubris.