The palm at the end of the mind, beyond the last thought, rises in the bronze distance. A gold feathered bird sings in the palm, without human meaning, without human feeling, a foreign song. You know then that it is not the reason that makes us happy or unhappy.
The bird sings. Its feathers shine. The palm stands on the edge of space. The wind moves slowly in the branches. The bird's fire-fangled feathers dangle down.

Thursday, December 13, 2007

aesop 

 The Oxen and the Axle-Trees

A HEAVY WAGON was being dragged along a country lane by a team of
Oxen.  The Axle-trees groaned and creaked terribly; whereupon the
Oxen, turning round, thus addressed the wheels:  "Hullo there! why
do you make so much noise? We bear all the labor, and we, not
you, ought to cry out."

 Those who suffer most cry out the least.

                                   Aesop Fables
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