A little while before Cortés conquered the Aztec empire, he was having one hell of a bad day. His men all wanted to quit and go home. Thirty of them had died of tropical diseases, and the rest would rather take a nap than take over.
Turn back. It's the easy route, and I mean, how can you take over without anyone backing you up? Moving forward looked impossible. Almost anyone would have stopped or at least paused at this point.
But Cortes wasn't just anyone. Before his men had time to think, he set fire to all of the ships.
Now there was no Plan B.
Conquer, or die.
I've been thinking a lot about this story lately.
I've had the match in my hand for quite some time, but I'm doing nothing. I set myself on fire while the boats remain dry.