He jumps high every now and then, just to check his static radical, he leaps has some heartbeat: seeing it well, the toad is all heart, pressed in a block of cold mud, the toad plunges into the winter like a pitiful chrysalis , Awakens in the spring, aware that no metamorphosis has taken place in it, it is more toad than ever, in its deep desiccation, silently awaits the first rains.
And on a splendid day it rises from the soft earth, heavy with moisture, filled with spiteful sap, like a heart thrown to the ground, in its attitude of sphinx there is a secret proposition of exchange, and the ugliness of the toad appears before us with an overwhelming Quality of mirror.