When you see young children living and working their beautiful miracles, do you smile and say, They are something at that age, or, We are something at that age? They, or we — the difference, I think, is a great one, and tells much about you. The same might be asked of how you view those who are far ahead of you in years. Because the very young and the very old are not different races of beings. They are our spirit-selves, and our weathered granite spaces. They are our rushing streams, and our deep calm waters.
And what of the child made old by the ravages of disease?
And what of those elderly children who no longer know their ages or their names, and who weep and laugh when a kitten is placed in their laps?
Do we who are blessed, not see how we are blessed through them?
Do we not see that we are them, even after death, and even before we are born?
Do we not see how the night of our thought, is made glad by the falling star?