What is your true essence, what are you made of, that there should be millions of reflections of you? Every person has only one image, but you, though you’re only one person, lend something to everyone else’s image. If an artist tries to depict Adonis, he’ll wind up creating an inferior imitation of you. If he were to paint Helen as beautifully as possible, he would again wind up with a picture of you, decked out in Greek costume. Praise the spring and the abundant harvest season—but the spring is only a faint shadow of your beauty, and the fall a faint imitation of your abundance. We recognize you in every blessed sight that we see. You are part of every beautiful thing, but you’re not like any of them—you’re incomparable—in the constancy of your heart.