Looking forward to the Games...
For twenty years an old woman fed a monk while he meditated in a little hut she had built for him.
One day she wondered if he had made any progress, so she employed a pleasure girl to visit the monk.
Following the old woman's orders, the girl caressed the monk and seductively demanded, "Now what?" The monk answered, "Nothing is warm. Just an old tree growing from cold rocks in the winter."
When the old woman heard this she exclamed angrily, "I have fed that fraud for twenty years, and he shows no loving kindness! He needn't have been passionate, just a little compassion would have done."
The old woman never fed the monk again.
Nothing in progression can rest on its original plan. We may as well think of rocking a grown man in the cradle of an infant. -- Edmund Burke