The way of God is a circle of which the inside is all around and the boundary is no place.
I recollect a day in my youth I coasted a paper pontoon in the ditch.It was a wet day of July; I was separated from everyone else and glad over my play. I skimmed my paper vessel in the trench.
All of a sudden the tempest mists thickened, winds came in blasts, and rain poured in downpours.
Rills of sloppy water hurried and swelled the stream and sunk my pontoon.
Severely I thought in my psyche that the tempest went ahead reason to ruin my satisfaction; all its malignance was against me.
The overcast day of July is a distant memory today, and I have been considering over every one of those diversions in life wherein I was a washout.
I was reprimanding my destiny for the numerous deceives it played on me, when abruptly I recalled the paper vessel that sank in the trench.