The cut worm forgives the plow.
--William Blake
Would anyone believe that rain abuses grass, or accuse roots, hungry for a better hold on life, of digging too far into earth's flesh? And if the earth should have to quake, would anyone blame it for cracking here and there? Look closely at the small world of busy life overturned in the garden each spring. No ant there curses another bug, and no worm curses itself. Though they can neither speak nor think, even small creatures know enough to accept their pain as a natural part of life.
Why, then, should we waste time blaming others, or ourselves, for the natural sensations of life?
In the process of new growth, can we expect no pain?
