Imagine a carpenter who has only read books about building but has never picked up a hammer. He may speak elegantly about the strength of oak, the precision of a dovetail joint, or the grain of polished cedar. Yet, when asked to build a simple stool, his hands falter, and his tools lie silent. His words are like a beautifully painted canvas that can’t support the weight of real work — attractive from a distance, but unable to hold anything together.
In the same way, words without action are like a castle made of sand, magnificent in appearance but crumbling at the first touch of a wave. True skill is a stone foundation laid with the mortar of experience. The most eloquent speech cannot fill the void left by unpracticed hands. Like seeds sown without the care of tending, ideas and theories spoken without practice will wither before they can bear fruit.
In life, let your hands learn the craft before your lips proclaim its mastery. Only then will your words be the sound of chisels shaping stone, resonating with the echo of deeds already done.