I am old and jaded and cynical, and shamed by the idealism of stronger and brighter souls than I.

If that's the case, since to my mind you have the patience of Job and the creative soul of an angel with a blank palette before it, I hesitate to estimate how elderly and steeped in cynicism I am [As to the jade, couldn't we *sell* it to someone, My Captain ?].

Mind you : "He was old, he was vile, and no stranger to vice, / He was base, he was bad, he was mean.", and we *know* how that ended.