To The West
To stand by the open grave of one you have loved, and feel the sky shut down over less worth in the world is the supreme test.
There you prove your worth, if ever.
You must live and face the day, and face each succeeding day, realizing that “the moving finger writes, and having writ moves on, nor all your tears shall blot a line of it.”
Heroes are born, but it is calamity that discovers them.
Once in Western Kansas, in the early Eighties, I saw a loaded four-horse wagon skid and topple in going across a gully.
The driver sprang from his seat and tried to hold the wagon upright.
The weight was too great for his strength, powerful man though he was.
The horses swerved down the ditch instead of crossing it, and the overturning wagon caught the man and pinned him to the ground.