There is an ancient fable concerning a certain prophet, one who had married a wealthy widow, that he stood upon a plain and beckoned to an eminence before him, saying "Come to me, mountain." The mountain moved not. A second time he bade it: "Straightway come hither to me, sir mountain." And still the mountain came not. Thereupon, his patience unexhausted, he gathered up his burnoose, and with appropriate words, since the mountain would not come to him, he went to the mountain. All this happened many years...
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