Practice makes perfect? Perhaps.
Yet so many times one savors most what one understands the least.
A rush of adrenaline, a burst of clumsy enthusiasm, a trace of perspiration, a huge dollop of uncertainty. Nervousness. Gradual, blissful terror. Adolescence. Transcendence.

Perhaps one never gets things quite right. Yet I believe in the virtue of creating within the flaws, and taking things one trembling step at a time.