We think, like joseph in his childish dreams, that the
sun and moon and the eleven stars, to say nothing of the sheaves,
are going to make obeisance to us. We want to be impressive, rich,
beautiful, influential, admired, envied; and then, as we move
forward, the visions fade. We have to be content if, in a quiet
corner, a single sheaf gives us a nod of recognition; and as for
the eleven stars, they seem unaware of our very existence! And then
we make further discoveries; that when we have seemed to ourselves
most impressive, we have only been pretentious; that riches are
only a talisman against poverty, and even make suffering and pain
and grief more unendurable; that beauty fades into stolidity or
weariness; that influence comes mostly to people who do not pursue
it, and that the best kind of influence belongs to those who do not
even know that they possess it; that admiration is but a brilliant
husk, which may or may not contain a wholesome kernel; and as for
envy, there is poison in that cup! And then we become aware that
the best crowns have fallen to those who have not sought them, and
that simple-minded and unselfish people have won the prize which
has been denied to brilliance and ambition.
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