The land, now, well I'll tell you how I feel about that. It's done a good job, as good as it was able to, anyway, and it's got a right to look tired. It'd be pretty upsetting if it looked any other way. Yes, and the hardness is all right, too. It's been through something pretty hard, and some of that hardness was bound to rub off. And sometimes a frown sets a lot better with you than a smile. Something that's taken a beating, you don't want to see it laugh. And just because it's stopped laughing doesn't mean it'll never laugh again.
The speaker reflects on the condition of the land, acknowledging its tired appearance as a testament to its struggles. The land has endured hardships, which have understandably left their mark. Instead of portraying a façade of constant vibrancy, its worn look symbolizes resilience and the reality of its experiences. The speaker finds reassurance in this harshness, suggesting that it's natural for something that has faced challenges to bear signs of those trials.
Moreover, the discussion touches upon the notion that sometimes, a serious expression fits better than a cheerful one for something that's suffered. The land's current state may seem somber, but it holds the potential for renewal and future joy. The speaker emphasizes that just because the land may seem devoid of laughter now, it doesn't signify an end to its ability to thrive and rejuvenate. This perspective invites a deeper understanding of the complexities of life and nature.
