I hear that in my library one night a bookworm spoke thus to a moth:

I have long lodged in Sina’s tomes and have consumed much of Farabi’s manuscript.

But I have not learned anything about life’s mystery, and am just as much in the dark about it as before.’

The half-burnt moth gave it a fine reply: ‘You will not find life’s mystery explained in books.

However, here it is: What gives to life intensity is ardency. It lends life wings with which to fly.’