Off I go, said Blurtso, thinking he was going some place. And off he went, traipsing across the field on his way to where he was going, coming from where he had been. This will really be something, he thought, when I get to where I’m going. It will surely be worth the effort it will take to get there. There will be so many things where I’m going that aren’t like the things from where I’m coming. And on he went, one hoof following another following another following another. The sun was shining then the sun was setting then the moon was rising then the moon was setting, and on he went.  
           
                             

I’ve got to keep going until I get there, he thought, when his stumpy little legs grew weary. And on he went, one hoof following another following another. Whew, he thought, I must be coming closer if I keep on going farther. And on he went, farther and farther and closer and closer and farther and farther and closer and closer. When he could go no further, he stopped and looked back at the trail of where he had been, and forward at the trail of where he was going. Blurtso, he said to himself, you silly goose, you’ll never get to where you’re going, nor back to where you’ve been, for you’re always at the beginning of where you’re going, and at the end of where you’ve been.