Somewhere in this world there exists an exceptional philosopher named Florie Rotondo.
The other day I came across one of her ruminations printed in a magazine devoted to the writings of school children. It said: If I could do anything, I would go to the middle of our planet, Earth, and seek uranium, rubies, and gold. I'd look for Unspoiled Monsters. Then I'd move to the country. Florie Rotondo, age eight.
Florie, honey, I know just what you mean--even if you don't: how could you, age eight?
Because I have been to the middle of our planet; at any rate, have suffered the tribulations such a journey might inflict. I have searched for uranium, rubies, gold, and, en route, have observed others in these pursuits. And listen, Florie--I have met Unspoiled Monsters! Spoiled ones, too. But the unspoiled variety is the rava avis: white truffles compared to black; bitter wild asparagus as opposed to garden-grown. The one thing I haven't done is move to the country.
Unanswered Prayers, Truman Capote
