A Deed (n.) is loved by its doer infinitely more than it deserves; the finest deeds happen in such a superabundance of love that, however great their worth, they are still unworthy of it.
A Deed (n.) already done still needs time to be seen and heard, like lightning, thunder and starlight — a great one can stay more distant from its own doers than the farthest stars.
A Deed (n.) is never understood, but always only praised or censured.
A Deed (n.) taken singly is a zero compared with everything one has done, and may be deducted without falsifying the account — society's interest in judging a whole life by one deed should not infect the doer.
A Deed (n.) is rarely an abbreviation for a personality — a rage, a grasp, a knife-thrust: what is there of personality in that? Yet it fixes the doer in a hypnotic stare, as its appendage.