Describing pride and guilt is one of the few things that I have found myself incapable of, so I shall let Wordsworth do it for me.
As one whose brain habitual phrensy fires
Owes to the fit in which his soul hath tossed
Profounder quiet, when the fit retires,
Even so the dire phantasma which had crossed
His sense, in sudden vacancy quite lost,
Left his mind still as a deep evening stream.
Nor, if accosted now, in thought engrossed,
Moody, or inly troubled, would he seem
To traveller who might talk of any casual theme.
I am humbled, and feeling very blessed, yet strange because I am feeling the weight of feelings hurt along the way, even though i know that it's not my affaire. But there are greater things in life that are more important for us.
Turn your stumbling blocks into stepping stones today.
Love,
Xinzi
