The Sculptor's Vow
There was once a sculptor who found a piece of perfect stone. At the sight of it he vowed he would turn such a rock into his masterpiece. It would, of course, take the form of a woman, convey beauty and strength and wonder—it would be the ultimate depiction of humanity, all crafted from his very hands. It would be his token to accolades, all the world would stare in wonder, and he would be regarded as someone great. He sat before the stone, the chisel laid down at his side, and concentrated, with an ardor in his mind, on what it was to make such a work. But no matter how hard nor how long he thought, there was nothing that moved with intensity into his being, no marveling motivation toward greatness, no guiding light of genius filling him with inspiration. So long did he think on this that his life began to fleck away, ...