A long time ago, I wrote someone a letter with a particular part I really liked; it became one of my more literary e-mails:
"I am pleased you found some peace finally and that you were able to embrace in some aspect what I most certainly recommend: the letting go of expectations. Part of your beauty is your failure. We will not make the world a dramatically better place because of our supreme smallness. Our imperfection tethers us to the wall while people suffer and die before our very eyes, through a window of glass called a TV screen, if not closer than that. You fail because you cannot possibly untie yourself but your passionate effort to do so (when so few even bother trying) is majestic. You squirm in the mud and yet are covered in roses."
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