...and you will find a broken heart.
He had much to be joyful about. Much to do, staying occupied. Keeping his mind off of it. But also there was sorrow. He had given himself fully; had been so willing to try once more, but to no avail. It was not for lack of effort, but it didn't work out. So he kept moving forward. Hope would no longer keep him afloat. Work would be his passion. He would bury any pain deep within his long hours spent at the drafting table. I will be a success not out of spite, but because I know I can be, I am, better. The will and the drive to move on had taken him this far, and it would take him further.