Elizabeth Rundle Charles,
The Ravens and the Angels, with Other Stories and Parables
“ And slowly, twig by twig, and shoot by shoot, the sapling grew. Sunbeams expanded its leaves; rains nourished its roots; frosts, checking its early buds, hardened its wood; winds swaying it hither and thither, as if they were determined to level it, only rooted it more firmly. And year by year the top grew a little higher, and the wood a little firmer, and the trunk a little thicker, and the roots a little deeper; but so slowly, that summer by summer it said,—"This is very pleasant; but it is only breathing, and being happy. It certainly cannot be the discipline which forms the great oaks. ”
