He was engaged in this prayer when a Voice came from Heaven, saying,
‘You were told to put the arrow to the bow; but who told you to shoot with all your might?
Self-conceit caused you to raise the bow aloft and display your skill in archery.
You must put the arrow to the bow, but do not draw to the full extent of your power.
Where the arrow falls, dig and search! Trust not in strength, seek the treasure by means of supplication.’
That which is real is nearer than the neck-artery, and you have shot the arrow of thought far afield.
The philosopher kills himself with thinking. Let him run on: his back is turned to the treasure.
Most of those destined for Paradise are simpletons, so that they escape from the mischief of philosophy.
While the clever ones are pleased with the device, the simple ones rest, like babes in the bosom of the Deviser.