The idealist walks on tiptoe, the materialist on his heels.
The flower in the vase smiles, but no longer laughs.
The flower is a jumble of thighs, the sun's harem - the most oriental thing imaginable.
The mind gets distracted in all sorts of ways. The heart is its own exclusive concern and diversion.
Our expression and our words never coincide, which is why the animals don't understand us.
