"I have come from a far kingdom where I have just ascended the
throne. My father ruled long and was old when he died, and now I am
remodeling his castle. The many books of his great library are in
the way of my new banquet hall, and I desire to rid myself of so
much old paper. But I do not wish to throw out every book. I want
to keep some for the sake of his precious memory. Thus, I have come
to you for a principle of selection. Which books should I keep and
which should I burn?"

"Go to the ancient source of rock in your kingdom, from which your
cities have been built," answered The Wise One, "and build a pile of
stones until you can stand on it and see over the edge of the
quarry. Then remove the contemptible stones."

With a look of deep thoughtfulness on his brow, the young ruler left
the presence of The Wise One and returned to his kingdom. It is not
recorded whether this advice was put into effect or whether it
helped the young ruler with his decision.

* * *

There are many other stories about The Wise One, just as there are
many other people with their own stories. But these shall suffice
to show how one old man exhausted the meager remnant of his days on
earth. Whether his life was spent well or ill perhaps even he
himself did not know.

On the Heroic Suffering of Mankind

A man stood philosophically on the prow of his ship, deeply inhaling
the fresh sea air, feeling the warmth of the bright sunshine on his
face, and ignoring or perhaps not hearing the burst of the whip as
it lacerated the backs of the struggling slaves in the galley. But
in the midst of enjoying his view, he felt a particle of dust fly
into his eye. By blinking and rubbing it a little, he removed the
speck, but his eye was reddened.

"Well," he said stoically, "life has many pains and hardships and we
must bear them as best we can." Then relaxing upon a couch and
ordering two slaves to dab his brow with a moistened cloth, he
called upon his friends to sympathize with his suffering, whereupon
he found some satisfaction in complaining of his hurt.

The Quest

All literature is but a variation on the quest motif. --
Someone or Other

Too busy to look, too busy to be wise. --Someone Else or
Someone Other

There once was a man who wandered from town to town constantly
examining the ground. He carried a lantern in the daytime and a
compass at night. When asked what he was doing