But here, in the murk of conflagration, where scarcely a friend is left to know we, the survivors, do not flinch from anything, not from a single blow. Surely the reckoning will be made after the passing of this cloud. We are the people without tears, straighter than you. . . more proud.
I would prefer to keep my clothes on. Unless there's a brisk breeze or something, I tend to keep them on.