Once when I was living in the heart of a pomegranate, I heard 
a seed saying, “Someday I shall become a tree, and the wind 
will sing in my branches, and the sun will dance on my leaves, 
and I shall be strong and beautiful through all the seasons.”
Then another seed spoke and said, “When I was as young 
as you, I too held such views; but now that I can weigh and 
measure things, I see that my hopes were vain.”
And a third seed spoke also, “I see in us nothing that promises 
so great a future.”
And a fourth said, “But what a mockery our life would be, 
without a greater future!”
Said a fifth, “Why dispute what we shall be, when we know 
not even what we are.”
But a sixth replied, “Whatever we are, that we shall continue 
to be.”
And a seventh said, “I have such a clear idea how everything 
will be, but I cannot put it into words.”
Then an eight spoke—and a ninth—and a tenth—and then 
many—until all were speaking, and I could distinguish nothing 
for the many voices.
And so I moved that very day into the heart of a quince, 
where the seeds are few and almost silent.