"No, I suppose that you have never meddled much with thinking! Can you
tell me why you blossom? And how it comes to pass? How? Why?"

"No," said the rose-tree, "I blossom with pleasure because I could
not do otherwise. The sun was so warm, the air so refreshing, I drank
the clear dew and the fortifying rain; I breathed, I lived! A strength
came to me from the earth, a strength came from above, I felt a
happiness, ever new, ever great and therefore I must blossom ever,
that was my life, I could not do otherwise!"

"You have led a very easy life!" said the snail.

"Certainly, everything has been given to me," said the rose-tree, "but
still more has been given to you. You are one of those meditative,
pensive, profound natures, one of the highly gifted, that astound the
whole world!"

"I have assuredly no such thought in my mind," said the snail, "the
world is nothing to me! What have I to do with the world? I have
enough with myself, and enough in myself!"

"But should we not all, here on earth, give the best part of us to
others? Offer what we can!--It is true, that I have only given
roses--but you? You who have received so much, what have you given to
the world? What do you give her?"

"What I have given? What I give? I spit upon her! She is good for
nothing! I have nought to do with her. Put forth roses, you can do no
more! Let the hazel bushes bear nuts! Let the cows and sheep give