The sand-castle and the artist

Many years ago there was an artist whose special skill was sand-castles. This artist had built a palace out of sand that had a fifty windows and ninety turrets.
‘Excellent!’, said a passer-by, ‘Though it would be better for you if you moved it here.’
‘Which sand-castle can be moved?’, said the artist.
‘Then you should not have built it there in the first place. It is plain to see this place is better. Now all you build will be destroyed.’
‘As love is sunlight of the soul, it is built where it is built.’
‘Then’, said the passer-by, ‘I shall not give you this silver coin, though I admire your industry.’
That night, under the light of the moon
The tide came in and destroyed the sand-castle.
Next morning the passer-by returned:
‘See’, said the passer-by, ‘if you had built it here, as I told you, your creation would still stand.’
The sculptor answered:
‘If I had built it there the sand would have been dry and the wind would have blown it away before anyone could have see it.
Yesterday there was beauty on this beach, today there is beauty on this beach, and there will be beauty tomorrow. As long as I am here, there will be beauty on this beach.’
And the passer-by walked on, for his life had come to an end, and that same day the artist built a palace with three hundred turrets and a thousand windows. Some passers-by gave silver, some gave gold, and some gave none, while the sun still shines on the artist who, I am told, works there to this very day.