Yet I alive!

It may be no "yes.", but I've always been impressed with the messy piece of doggerel Daniel Defoe wrote to end his A Journal of the Plague Year.

 A dreadful plague in London was

In the year sixty-five,

Which swept an hundred thousand souls

Away; yet I alive!

I have very little else to say on the matter, other than that I suddenly feel like reading the pair of plague books Dr. V- introduced me to: the Defoe book and Camus's La Peste. I've had a strong craving for Camus lately in general. Maybe it's time to finish reading The Myth of Sisyphus.