A kite, which has been allowed to soar to the clouds, called out from on high to a butterfly down below in the valley.
“I can assure you that I can scarcely make you out. Confess now that you feel envious when you watch my so lofty flight.”
“Envious? No indeed! You have no business to think so much of yourself. You fly high, it is true; but you are always tied by a string.
Such a life, my friend, is very far removed from happiness. But I, though in truth but little exalted, fly wherever I wish. I should not like all my life long to have to conduce to someone else’s foolish amusement.”