"But, Auntie, suppose it was no dream ... but the very bread of life!"
"My child, who can tell you now what is the only bread of life? Now, you are only hungry for your dream ... and, later, much later...."
"Have I hungered then ... after nothing?"
"Perhaps."
"After nothing? Oh no!"
"Who can tell?"
"Auntie, is every one of life's parables so cruel in its worldly wisdom? Do they all teach that the great dream is nothing and the little grain, which comes so late, everything?..."
"I fear so, child."
"Oh, Auntie, it's all words ... soft, gentle words!... I understand you: it is your own story, your parable. But, until now, mine ... is nothing but the river ... and the leaf...."
"And later perhaps there will come ... the tiny treasure, the grain...."