Whenever I glance or contemplate that painting from Elliott Daingerfield’s, my mind involuntary invokes these verselets by George Byron:

“..He who ascends to mountain-tops, shall find ⁠The loftiest peaks most wrapt in clouds and snow; ⁠He who surpasses or subdues mankind… ⁠Must look down on the hate of those below. ⁠Though high above the Sun of Glory glow, ⁠And far beneath the Earth and Ocean spread, ⁠Round him are icy rocks, and loudly blow ⁠Contending tempests on his naked head, And thus reward the toils which to those summits led.”

A crucial point to attaining summits is that, it is never demands being a part of the greatest creation or in some \(x\), the sensation is a part of the soul where you can find it. Thus, it can form from anything. وَلِلَّهِ الْعِزَّةُ وَلِرَسُولِهِ وَلِلْمُؤْمِنِينَ وَلَٰكِنَّ الْمُنَافِقِينَ لَا يَعْلَمُونَ.

I love and old Arabic expressions of lack of pride and ignominy:

مَن يَهُن يَسهُلِ الهَوانُ عَلَيهِ ما لِجُرحٍ بِمَيِّتٍ إيلامُ

من كان هيِّنًا في نفسه؛ لا يستصعب ورود الهوان عليه؛ فهو كالميِّت الذي لا يتألَّم بالجراحة.