In the short story, Leaf by Niggle, Niggle is an artist who lives and basically dies dedicated to his art. All his community can see, however, is a rather footling and ineffective little man. Eventually, all his work is destroyed; his talent only bears fruit in the afterlife. I sometimes wonder if my own efforts will ever flourish in my lifetime; luckily I have two or three dedicated 'fans' who keep me going. And the work itself impels me. But I fear that will be the general summation of my life. 'Poor old Brer. What a waste of time and effort!'
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