Matters of consequence!
He looked at me there, with my hammer in my hand, my fingers black with engine-grease, bending down over an object which seemed to him extremely ugly. . .
You talk just like the grown-ups!
That made me a little ashamed. But he went on, relentlessly: "You mix everything up together . . . You confuse everything . . ."
He was really very angry. He tossed his golden curls in the breeze.
I know a planet where there is a certain red-faced gentleman.
He has never smelled a flower.
He has never looked at a star. He has never loved any one.
He has never done anything in his life but add up figures.
And all day he says over and over, just like you: 'I am busy with matters of consequence!' And that makes him swell up with pride. But he is not a man--he is a mushroom!"