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I have seen the movement of the sinews of the sky, And the blood coursing in the veins of the moon.
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In the life of a man, his time is but a moment, his being an incessant flux, his senses a dim rushlight, his body a prey of worms, his soul an unquiet eddy, his fortune dark, and his fame doubtful. In short, all that is of the body is as coursing waters, all that is of the soul as dreams and vapours; life a warfare, a brief sojourning in an alien land; and after repute, oblivion. Where, then, can man find the power to guide and guard his steps? In one thing and one alone: the love of knowledge.
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If an American company has a drop of patriotic blood coursing through its system, then surely it would set up in America and employ Americans, right?