grit

Late one night in the sculptor's studio:
Why are you so abrasive? the sandpaper asked the stone.
Replied the stone, I am too easily marred and gouged too deeply.
You, the chisel, the mallet - all want to shape me.
Usually, I yield.
But if I didn't wear the paper, dull the blade or blunt the wood
there would be nothing left for the sculptor to reveal.