"This is the pessimist," said my soul, "Let us leave this place.
We cannot bathe here."

We walked on until we reached an inlet. There we saw, standing
on a white rock, a man holding a bejeweled box, from which he took
sugar and threw it into the sea.

"And this is the optimist," said my soul, "And he too must not see
our naked bodies.

Further on we walked. And on a beach we saw a man picking up dead
fish and tenderly putting them back into the water.

"And we cannot bathe before him," said my soul. "He is the humane
philanthropist."

And we passed on.

Then we came where we saw a man tracing his shadow on the sand.
Great waves came and erased it. But he went on tracing it again
and again.

"He is the mystic," said my soul, "Let us leave him."

And we walked on, till in a quiet cover we saw a man scooping up
the foam and putting it into an alabaster bowl.

"He is the idealist," said my soul, "Surely he must not see our
nudity."