You are soothed by music, but the art is another’s.
True, I have no genius.
What have you, then?
Nothing, but my foiled desires. My dearest hopes are rendered unavailing.
And why are you so?
Ah, that I do not know. Ask the hero, the successful man. He can tell you what I lack. I met a drunken man who said:
“Two kernels of corn fell on the ground, and sprouted in the self-same way. A toad hopped along and passed his dung at the roots of one, while the other shrunk in the shade.”