We never know how high we are , Till we are asked to rise , And then if we are true to plan , Our statures touch the skies— The Heroism we recite , Would be a normal thing , Did not ourselves the Cubits warp , For fear to be a King—
“You know, everybody thinks we found this broken-down horse, and fix him, but we didn’t. He fixed us. Every one of us, and I guess, in a way, we kind of fixed each other, too.”