Walking With My Brother

I Love You

I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I’m with you.

I love you not only for what you have made of yourself but for what you are making of me;

I love you for putting your hand onto my heaped up heart and passing over all the foolish weak things you can’t help dimly seeing there, and for drawing out into the light all the beautiful belongings that no one else had looked quite far enough to find;

I love you because you are helping me to make of the lumber of my life not a tavern but a temple, out of the work of my every day not a reproach but a song;

I love you because you have done more than any creed could have done to make me good and more than any fate could have done to make me happy;

You have done it without a touch, without a word, without a sigh;

You have done it by being yourself

Perhaps that is what being a friend means, after all.