A toad is an amiable creature, probably. It is also a contemplative creature. While admiring a toad, one is often struck by the heaves its entire tiny body seems to make. This betrays, we believe, both an amiable and a contemplative nature.
Amiability and contemplation are great antagonists. For one to be amiable, they must abandon nearly all contemplation, and conversely, when one is contemplative, they are very seldom amiable. Contemplation, it might even be said, thoroughly sullies any degree of amiability, for if one reflects for too long on anything (particularly others and their relationship to and treatment of them), it is possible to feel little beyond disgust. That a toad, then, is capable of joining these antipodes within itself is a testament to its remarkably profound nature.
I think enough, though, has been said about a toad, and thus we leave it now, in all its complexity, to its contemplative yet somehow amiable self.
Amiability and contemplation are great antagonists. For one to be amiable, they must abandon nearly all contemplation, and conversely, when one is contemplative, they are very seldom amiable. Contemplation, it might even be said, thoroughly sullies any degree of amiability, for if one reflects for too long on anything (particularly others and their relationship to and treatment of them), it is possible to feel little beyond disgust. That a toad, then, is capable of joining these antipodes within itself is a testament to its remarkably profound nature.
I think enough, though, has been said about a toad, and thus we leave it now, in all its complexity, to its contemplative yet somehow amiable self.
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