Some say this is a field of dreams. Well, baby, I'm a dreamer.
This road might carry you all the way through, splitting between the mountains and on past the trees. (And by you I mean you, all of you, not just you or you. Us. We. That is, if you choose to join.)
Or maybe you'll end up wandering, floundering astray. In the margins, peasant-like. Begging for a generous hand.
Well, to them I say that:
Not all who wander are aimless.
But I would also tell them that:
The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena.