The caterpillar just eats and loafs and sleeps -- and after awhile, without any effort, it turns into a butterfly, with nothing to do but flit around and be beautiful. And the tumblebug toils and pants and sweats and worries, pushing its burden up hill forever, like Sisyphus, and pretty soon some one comes along and thinks how vulgar and ugly it is, and steps on it and squashes it. Idleness and beauty are their own rewards.
