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The Flame of Hope
Every person is born with the basic drive to persevere. No matter how crushed, how defeated, how demoralized, when all hope seems gone, there is, in the healthy person, a small, indistinguishable flame of hope - like a faint but persistent pilot light that stays alight, much like the fire ancient man used to carry with him as he moved from place to place.
Almost everyone comes to a place in life when going on seems futile, even ridiculous - when he seems overwhelmed by a suffocating mattress of events and situations, and desires just to sit down in the middle of the road and let the world and everything in it go to blazes.
So he sits down for a while. But then the vibration of the world seems to make itself felt in his bones. Pretty soon, he raises his head and begins to look around. After a while, he takes a couple of deep breaths, gets slowly, painfully to his feet, wobbles there for a minute or two, and then he starts out again. Often as not, around the next bend in the road, he'll find the reason he kept going. And he'll shudder at the thought of how close he came to giving up.