The Eagle and The Arrow

An Eagle sat upon a high cliff, surveying the wide land below with keen and lordly eyes. He feared nothing, for he was the king of the sky, and no creature could reach him in his lofty perch.

Suddenly, an arrow came whistling through the air and struck him in the breast. The Eagle felt the sharp sting and knew at once that the wound was mortal. As he sank down, he turned his dying gaze upon the arrow that had pierced him.

There, fitted to the shaft, he saw feathers—and with a pang sharper than the wound itself, he recognized them as his own.

"Alas," he cried, "how much sharper are the wounds we give ourselves! It is with my own plumage that I am slain."

We often give our enemies the means of our own destruction.