" I met an oaktree: as tall as my finger, and it was suffering. Of its four leaves, two were completely yellow. The others were drooping and had no sheen.

I could discover no enemy in the neighborhood, nor any excessive competition.

Some skillful parasite must have slipped into it. An oak, so what? what's that to a parasite?

So, I ripped it out, root and dead leaves, and up you go!

It's supposed to be tenacious, but to start living again when it was that far gone, no! it hadn't learned enough for that "

― Henri Michaux , Plume: précédé de Lointain intérieur