When we walk on fragile ice,
we risk a chilling death.
Do not be in such a hurry that
you fail to see the safest path.
We rush, rush, rush, to go
where we’ve already been, or
do not need to go. Like the
mad hatter who is late where
ever he goes, we squander our
time and wail at its lack–all
the while adding more and more
to avoid that which we fear.