“Life gives us grief like mounds of wet clay, Ripe and heavy beneath our reluctant hands, And with it we can do one of three things. We can carry it with us whenever we go, Stooped beneath its awful weight, We can shove it to the back of a wardrobe, Buried beneath an old waxed coat, Or we can make something beautiful, And let it live on beyond us.”
Book:Our Infinite Fates