There is a legend about a bird which sings just once in his life more sweetly than any other creature on the face of the earth. From the moment it leaves the nest, it searches for a thorn tree, and doesn't rest until it's found one. Then singing among the savage branches, it impales itself upon the longest, sharpest spire. And dying, it rises above its own agony to out-carol the lark and the nightingale. And the whole world stills to listen. And God in his heaven, smiles. For the best is bought only at the cost of great pain. So says the legend.