Is it right to say "Failure is an event, never a person"?

The frigid November air struck the suburban town with a light snow shower. The surrounding area was cold, but far not as cold as the Griffin town Hospital.

It was late in the night and the empty halls of the hospital rang a cold dreary sound. Two people stood in the dead hallway next to a residents room. Of the two people there was a young blond hair woman and a small frail boy. the boys age could have been no greater than five years of age, and the woman, about twenty-three years old, held the small boys hand.

An older boy came out of the residence's room, and closed the door with his back towards them. His hand still grasped the knob of the door as he just stood there. No words were spoken, but as the older boy turned his head toward the young woman. It was as if all the words that needed to be spoken had.

She gasped and held her right hand to her mouth when she saw his face. Rivers of tears ran down his face, but no expression was upon it. He walked over to the younger boy, keeled down to his level, hugged him than started to weep. For the first time a sound came from one of there mouths. Of course, though, the sound when one's crying is never something to be happy about.

The small brown haired boy did not know what was going on, so all he did was hug the boy back.