There is a Swan whose name is Ecstasy: it wingeth from the Deserts of the North; it wingeth through the blue; it wingeth over the fields of rice; at its coming they push forth the green.
In all the Universe this Swan alone is motionless; it seems to move, as the Sun seems to move; such is the weakness of our sight.
O fool! criest thou?
Amen. Motion is relative: there is Nothing that is still.
Against this Swan I shot an arrow; the white breast poured forth blood. Men smote me; then, perceiving that I was but a Pure Fool, they let me pass.
Thus and not otherwise I came to the Temple of the Graal.