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CERITA |
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THE
STARFISH I awoke early, as I often did,
just before sunrise, to walk by the ocean's edge and greet the new day. As I approached, I realized that
the youth was not dancing to the bay, but rather bending to sift through the
debris left by the night's tide. He stopped now and then to pick up a
starfish, and then stood and heaved it back into the sea. I asked the youth the purpose of
his effort. "The tide has washed the starfish onto the beach and they
cannot return to the sea by themselves," the youth replied. "When
the sun rises, they will die, unless I throw them back into the sea." As the youth explained, I
surveyed the vast expanse of beach, stretching in both directions beyond
eyesight. Starfish littered the shore in numbers beyond calculation. The
hopelessness of the youth's plan became clear to me and I exclaimed,
"But there are more starfish on this beach than you can ever save before
the sun is up! Surely you cannot expect to make a difference." The youth paused briefly to
consider my words, then bent to pick up a starfish and threw it as far as
possible. Turning to me he simply said, "I made a difference to
that one." |
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