" "I choose _that_ color." "I choose _that_ color."
I went quietly on my way, without disturbing her again. But I said in my
heart, "Little Messenger, Interpreter, Teacher! I will remember you all my
life."
Why should days ever be dark, life ever be colorless? There is always sun;
there are always blue and scarlet and yellow and purple. We cannot reach
them, perhaps, but we can see them, if it is only "through a glass," and
"darkly,"--still we can see them. We can "choose" our colors. It rains,
perhaps; and we are standing in the cold. Never mind. If we look earnestly
enough at the brightness which is on the other side of the glass, we shall
forget the wet and not feel the cold. And now and then a passer-by, who
has rolled himself up in furs to keep out the cold, but shivers
nevertheless,--who has money in his purse to buy many colors, if he likes,
but, nevertheless, goes grumbling because some colors are too dear for
him,--such a passer-by, chancing to hear our voice, and see the
atmosphere of our content, may learn a wondrous secret,--that
pennilessness is not poverty, and ownership is not possession; that to be
without is not always to lack, and to reach is not to attain; that
sunlight is for all eyes that look up, and color for those who "choose.
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