'Did he say we were winning the war?'
Winning is a relative term. If you were to hear someone declare in glass-half-full fashion that we were winning the war, you might argue contrarily the country can't conceivably win a war on terror, and that to say we are 'winning' is merely a hope, a promising outlook, something indefinite that is compromised by overconfidence or pompous, unrelenting nationalism.
If you were to hear someone say that he was winning at chess, supported merely by the fact that he had captured more pieces than the opponent, then you just may censure him for declaring early victory, because as we all know, or at least those who follow the gentlemen's game, the game isn't won until the King himself is checkmated; that is, exhausted of all other options, cornered by his enemies, and most certainly unprotected.
So what would you say to the man, who jumped the gun and claimed the opponent's loss all too soon, if somehow, unforeseen, he overlooked a major mistake, one even a master of the board would suffer due to cockiness or perhaps too much confidence and too little caution? And if in turn this crucial error led to further withering of your defenses, what would you say then?
What would you do if suddenly, by no fault of your own, those who stood for you fell for you needlessly all because of your pretentiousness, your eagerness, your want - no, your need - to appear superior to your opponent. No, forget your allies and forget safety of those who fight for you; you are too proud to say no, and yet, you know saying the 'w' word is the key to the game you're playing oh-so-wondrously. Take a bow, you've declared nothing but your arrogance, and the ruthlessness with which you edge your pawns to the edge, all so you can save face. So you can 'win' in your eyes. Your blind, ignorant eyes.
Winning is a relative term. How many pawns must be sacrificed before the game you think you're winning ends?
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