Remember to take in the proverbial long view, and not the abbreviated version of existence.

That afternoon, as the poorly compensated workers flooded out of the shops, I walked into a student weeping and heaving some ugly sob on the dirty curb of the street in her short dainty skirt. I put my hand on her shoulder, her hair curled and hung down over my hand. She looked up with watery red eyes. “Cry elsewhere,” I told her, “Or sprout wings and soar, girl.”