A train bounded down the tracks, its passengers swaying back and forth in sync as they traveled. A young boy sat between his mother and father, vigorously scribbling with a pencil across the pad of paper that lay in his lap. To break up the monotony of the train ride, the boy’s father decided to take a look at what his son was working so hard on.
He peered over the boy’s shoulder and saw the makings of a wonderful drawing on the paper. A child was resting in a hammock that hung between two trees, the tops of which were lush with leaves. In the background, a dog was chasing a squirrel over rolling hills and a small bird flew in the corner of the paper. A bright sun beat down on the setting below.
The boy’s father was astonished at how well his son drew.
“That’s some good work there, son!” said the man, “Who taught you to draw like that?”
The boy only smiled and simply glanced down at his pad of paper. At first, the father was confused, but the boy soon began to flip through the pages. On the first page, a drawing of mere scribbles resided. The picture wasn’t even discernable. On the second page, one could possibly make out the outline of a crudely drawn landscape. He flipped through page after page of rough drawings, each one slightly better than the rest. Finally, the boy had turned back to his current masterpiece.
He smiled again and looked up at his father.
“Perseverance taught me,” He said.
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