The hall was packed, mostly with elderly women. It was some sort of new religion. One of the speakers was dressed in nothing more than a turban and a loincloth. He spoke, feelingly, of the power of mind over matter.
Everyone listened spellbound. The speaker eventually returned to his place right in front of me. His neighbor turned to him and asked in a loud whisper, "Do you really believe what you said, that the body feels nothing at all and it's all in the mind?"
The phony replied, with pious conviction, "Of course I do."
"Then," said his neighbor, "would you mind changing places with me? I'm sitting in a draft."
Why do I try to practice what I preach?
If I stuck to preaching what I practice, I'd be less of a phony.
Everyone listened spellbound. The speaker eventually returned to his place right in front of me. His neighbor turned to him and asked in a loud whisper, "Do you really believe what you said, that the body feels nothing at all and it's all in the mind?"
The phony replied, with pious conviction, "Of course I do."
"Then," said his neighbor, "would you mind changing places with me? I'm sitting in a draft."
Why do I try to practice what I preach?
If I stuck to preaching what I practice, I'd be less of a phony.
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