If a candle approach the Sun, how can it complain of its smallness, its feebleness, its weakness? Alone in the dark, it weeps and pines. Even it shines -- but to no avail. O futile, feeble candle! If truly you aim for the Sun, how will you complain? With each step: your tears flow stronger your light grows weaker even your steps will fail... For these are the signs of progress! One who stands before the Sun must lose all trace of self -- but not through effort or intention: any more than a runner intends to lose his breath. And when you find the Sun, there can be no more sorrow -- even as your light dims and your faculties recede... He who finds the Sun knows only glory.