Several years back I was given a stone that needed a new polish. The surface had become scratched and had what appeared to be cracks in it. It was about the size of my thumb print, oval and around a quarter of an inch thick. This kind of damage is normal for a stone that is worn frequently and/or an older stone. The cracks, however, were not a good sign in this particular stone for you can't easily polish those faults out and not loose the beauty of it. I worried over that and told the person who'd given it to us that it could be an issue, yet I still took it home to let our stone cutter tell me the exact same thing... the things I've learned over the years...
This stone, despite it's damage, was utterly magnificent. Easily expected being it was a Black Opal with plenty of color despite it's dark surrounds. I'd never seen a Black Opal in person before, let alone held one in my hand. It was truly a thing of beauty. Definitely made by a more creative and loving artist than any other alive or passed. Even as I marveled... and did I... over this beautiful stone, my eye glued to the loupe once more, I felt the same intense emotion return and knock at my mental door, demanding attention again. So, okay, while enjoying my rare unexpected guest, I gave myself over to the emotions and quickly found my interest in the stone drawing back.