... But as God created Man and Woman so too He fashioned the

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... But as God created Man and Woman so too He fashioned the hero and the poet, or orator. The poet cannot do what that other does, he can only admire, love, and rejoice in the hero. Yet he too is happy, and not less so, for the hero is as it were his better nature, with which he is in love, rejoicing in the fact that this after all is not himself, that his love can be admiration. He is the genius of recollection, can do nothing except call to mind what has been done, do nothing but admire what has been done; he contributes nothing of his own, but is jealous of the entrusted treasure. He follows the option of his heart, but when he has found what he sought, he wanders before each man's door with his song and his oration, that all may admire the hero as he does, be proud of the hero as he is. This is his achievement, his humble work, this is his faithful service in the house of the hero. If he thus remains true to his love, he strives day and night against the cunning of oblivion which would trick him out of his hero, then he has completed his work, then he is gathered to the hero, who has loved him just as faithfully, for the poet is as it were the hero's better nature, powerless it may be as a memory is, but also transfigured as a memory is. Hence no one shall be forgotten who was great, and though time tarries long, though a cloud of misunderstanding takes the hero away, his lover comes nevertheless, and the longer the time has passed, the more faithfully will he cling to him.
No, not one shall be forgotten who was great in the world.
--- Kierkegaard

Well /lit/, are you the hero or the orator?