"Why do you lie about so?" demanded the Fox. "Get up! This routine is foolish. Too much relaxation has made you dull-witted and slow."
"What is the point," answered the sleepy boy. "Is not Destiny already sewn up? Even the children have become spiders; to be a fly is a dangerous profession these days."
"Danger? I laugh at your 'Danger'! What have you to lose by rising that you will not lose even more certainly by sleeping? Come, now. Tell me."
"My dreams."
"Your dreams are always about the past. You dream of youth as all your precious years pass you by."
"My life then… If I stand in the path of a boulder, will I not be crushed?"
"Not if you cause the boulder to leave its path. There are many ways: to dig a diverting gutter or position a ramp…
"Enough of these analogies! I could die!"
"You will die, if you do not stand up now!"
"You would murder me!?!"
"No, rather the opposite. Do you know what the world sees when it looks at you? A tired old man. A tired old man whose heart has stopped beating. A dead old man with too much opium in his body. A polluted corpse, decorating a spider's web."
"Is this the end, then?" cried the boy. "Is there no hope?"
"No," said the Fox, a tear welling in its eye. "Not for a boy who sleeps."