How simple is snow. It is white. It falls to the ground. It is shoveled. It melts. It turns to water. Water evaporates. The snow disappears from sight, and yet it has turned into water which will come again as rain or snow. The world at large does not cry out about the vanishing of snow. Those who shovel do not say: "Oh, dear, what a terrible thing! Snow is gone."

In a sense, all the loved ones you mourn are only snowmen, beloveds. And all those you may fear or dislike, they too are only snowmen, here today and gone tomorrow.

I ask you again, what is all this fuss on Earth about?