In love, I paint, and though I can only paint myself, it is expression of love for others. But in consequence, there is great hatred and jealousy for the freedom in my paintings, and so I find that my love and me are rejected together. There is great pain in my soul, so I will find enough places to paint it cheerfully though it may never be accepted in the heart of another.
In rebellion against those who seek to humiliate and mock, I will instead choose to believe that God has forged each of us with purpose, and will follow the line he has drawn; Not judging my weakness as others, but believing that this weakness may one day sprout.
They are seeds of strength and love for God.
As though a painting was done perfect save one small portion, or as though a great symphony were written with a single sour note, or as though it were played beautifully excepting one glaring sound of uncertainty.
All the critics might say how wonderful almost, but the master in wisdom gave honor to humility, and clothing for all weakness, that love might be perfect.
Captain Moroni was thankful to God for the blessings which he bestowed upon his people. While I can, I will also.