noon
The young man leaped from the grass . `` Sir , '' said he in a strained voice , `` I do not understand your words , but they make my heart to dance and sing within me like a bird . '' `` If you listen to your heart , '' said the Philosopher , `` you will learn every good thing , for the heart is the fountain of wisdom tossing its thoughts up to the brain which gives them form , '' -- and , so saying , he saluted the youth and went again on his way by the curving road . Now the day had advanced , noon was long past , and the strong sunlight blazed ceaselessly on the world . His path was still on the high mountains , running on for a short distance and twisting perpetually to the right hand and to the left . One might scarcely call it a path , it grew so narrow . Sometimes , indeed , it almost ceased to be a path , for the grass had stolen forward inch by inch to cover up the tracks of man .