Commonplace Book

'.....the first pangs of that world-old agony which comes to all of us when we first understand that there are limitations to our gift of consolation towards those whom we love best - that our power to love and our power to console are by no means synonymous. It is when our best-beloved are writhing from the effects of a wound which no touch of ours can heal or even soothe, that we are brought face to face with the incapacities of human affection. We would gladly give our very lives if this pain could be in any way diminished - but it cannot; our powerlessness is as complete as is our sympathy. As we go through the world, we love and are loved by many; we cheer and are cheered by many; we help and are helped by many; but if, in the whole course of a lifetime, we find one human heart which we are able perfectly to heal and to comfort - one human hand which is able perfectly to heal and to comfort us - we may of a truth consider ourselves blessed; for this is the greatest and the rarest gift vouchsafed to the sons and daughters of men.'

from Fuel of Fire by Ellen Thorneycroft Fowler (Chapter XIII)