An article from a church bulletin taught such a good lesson about criticizing that I thought I should pass it along. It begins with this poem:

A little seed lay in the ground, and soon began to sprout;
Now, which of all the flowers around, shall I, it mused, come out?

The seed then could be heard saying, "I don't care to be a rose. It has thorns. I have no desire to be a lily. It's too colorless. And I certainly wouldn't want to be a violet. It's too small, and furthermore, it grows too close to the ground."

The story concludes with the verse about that fault finding seed:

And so it criticized each flower, that supercilious seed,
Until it woke on summer hour and found itself a weed!