This is a atory. The Stone Mason and his Stone Months ago the stone was delivered to my studio. It was huge massive and a thing of beauty in itself. It was a piece of the finest marble from the best quarry in the country. I had the workmen set on my work platform and paid them the small fortune that the stone cost. For days I looked at the stone. I would look at it from different angles, in different light and in different states of mind. I began making sketches. Slowly the image took form in my mind. As I studied the stone and made skecth after sketch the image grew in my mind and in the stone. After weeks of this the image was complete and fully detailed in my mind and in the stone. When I looked at the stone now I saw the fully formed image in the stone from all angles. The work of artistic creation was done. I had found the form contained in the stone. Now all that was left was for me, the stone mason, to do was to remove the excess stone to reveal form within. I took up my tools and began working the stone. It took weeks to accomplish; but, day by day as I removed more and more needless useless excess stone the statue took shape, then took on more and more detail until finally it was done. It was beautiful. It was wonderful. The stone itself seemed alive. Whenever I caught sight of it out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw it moving, breathing. I would look at it fully, half expecting it to step down off of the platform. It was a masterpiece beyound price. A thing of beauty, a work of nearly perfect art that would be viewed with awe and cherished for ages. It would inspire countless numbers with its beauty, grace and perfection. I knew this; but, I also knew that I was merely a stone mason who had removed that which blocked our view of what was already within the stone . Who, I wondered, created this work of beauty? Where had it come from? What part did I play in its creation or rather revealation? I had taken a marble stone of great beauty, value and usefulness as a bulding stone that any builder would give his eye teeth for and rendered it useless and worthless for building. I had removed so much from the stone that it could no longer support any weight or cover any void. Yet by doing nothing more than removing that which gave it value purpose and worth, by removing stone from it, I revealed a priceless art treasure of great beauty and worth that would be admired and treasured throughout the ages. How by adding nothing and only by removing something could I, a mere stonemason, take part in the creation of something so beutiful, so nearly perfect, so wonderful, so real and lifelike that it would inspire and awe all who saw it for thousands of years. What was it that I had done? How by removing stone from a stone, by removing that which gave it one kind of value, purose and use, did I make something functionally useless and worthless and yet a priceless work of art that was a masterpiece and would be treasured by all of ages on end?