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It was a cold, winter day. A carcass, on an ice floe, floated slowly down the Niagra River. An Eagle, flying overhead, spied the easy prey below, and descended upon it. He began to eat. As he did, the water of the river began slowly pushing the flow toward the falls. But could not the eagle, stretch forth his great wings and fly? Could he not, at the very brink of the falls, leap the safety of the air? Had he not done so a thousand times before? So slowly, he continued to eat. As he waited, the water of the river began pushing the floe faster and faster and closer and closer to the falls, until the roar of the falls began to echo throughout the canyon. He waited until the very mists of the falls began rising above his head. Finally, he stretched forth his great wings to fly.

Unknown to him, his talents, sunk in the frozen flesh of his...

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