This is why your face is pale like milk; this is why your hands are wide and touched with hair and rough with too much sun: you are the sweet center of an iron wheel: you spin and you spin and you spin, going from disjointed sensation to disjointed sensation; you are made dizzy and you cannot stand to spin, you are made sick and you cannot stand motion; all your life you are weary with spinning, and there is nothing else: there is only rising in the morning, going down at night; eating now and now and now; doing this and doing that; and the wheels of the earth make you dizzy; the wheels of the sun make you dizzy; the wheels of the moon make you dizzy; the wheels of the seasons make you dizzy; and you cannot stand these spinning wheels, you cannot stand the corrupted flesh and the life and resurrection; you cannot stand sowing time and reaping time; for it all goes so quickly, and makes you so dizzy, and makes you so sick.