but for what I am when I am with you.
I love you, not only for what
you have made of yourself,
but for what you are making of me
bring out; I love you for putting your
hand into my heaped-up heart
and passing over all the foolish,
weak things that you can't help
dimly seeing there, and for drawing
out in to the light all the
beautiful belongings that no one else
had looked quite far enough to find.
then 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 sign. You have done
it by being yourself. Perhaps that is
what being a friend means after all.
