"Boy, you're gonna carry that weight, carry that weight, a long time
." --Paul McCartney
Once, there was a man whose life was one of such ease that when he arose in the morning, his bed made itself—sheets and blankets neatly folded, not a wrinkle to be found. When he had an itch, an angel would descend from heaven to scratch it. His meals, no matter how complex or elaborate, would cook themselves, and indeed everything, both important and insignificant, went his way, effortlessly, painlessly. He seemed unencumbered by gravity, a force that, although it held him to this earth, never appeared to weigh upon him as he strolled through the world, unscathed by the pressures and burdens that seemed so often, and with such mass, to oppress others.
One day, he fell in love and instantly a life which had formerly been like a pebble, skipping blithely across the smooth face of a serene lake, sank like the cornerstone of a pyramid, crushing the sand of the Sahara. A life lighter than helium, yet a love heavier than the universe (100 trillion trillion trillion trillion tons, give or take a few kilograms)--a weight he gladly bore without difficulty or care, except for one or two kilograms---here and there.