这是磨坊说的话。事实上，它说的比这还多，不过这是最重要的一部分罢了。
日子来，日子去，而昨天是最后的一天。
这个磨坊着了火。火焰升得很高。它向外面燎，也向里面燎。它舔着大梁和木板。结果这些东西就全被吃光了。磨坊倒下来了，它只剩下一堆火灰。燃过的地方还在冒着烟，但是风把它吹走了。
磨坊里曾经活着过的东西，现在仍然活着，并没有因为这件意外而被毁掉。事实上它还因为这个意外事件而得到许多好处。磨坊主的一家——一个灵魂，许多“思想”，但仍然只是一个思想——又新建了一个新的、漂亮的磨坊。这个新的跟那个旧的没有任何区别，同样有用。人们说：“山上有一个磨坊，看起来很像个样儿!”不过这个磨坊的设备更好，比前一个更近代化，因为事情总归是进步的。那些旧的木料都被虫蛀了，潮湿了。现在它们变成了尘土。它起初想象的完全相反，磨坊的躯体并没有重新站起来。这是因为它太相信字面上的意义了，而人们是不应该从字面上看一切事情的意义的。
Windmill
Windmill stood upon the hill， proud to look at， and it was proud too.
“I am not proud at all，” it said， “but I am very much enlightened without and within. I have sun and moon for my outward use， and for inward use too; and into the bargain I have stearine candles， train oil and lamps， and tallow candles. I may well say that I’m enlightened. I’m a thinking being， and so well constructed that it’s quite delightful. I have a good windpipe in my chest， and I have four wings that are placed outside my head， just beneath my hat. The birds have only two wings， and are obliged to carry them on their backs. I am a Dutchman by birth， that may be seen by my figure—a flying Dutchman. They are considered supernatural beings， I know， and yet I am quite natural. I have a gallery round my chest， and house-room beneath it; that’s where my thoughts dwell. My strongest thought， who rules and reigns， is called by others ‘The Man in the Mill.’ He knows what he wants， and is lord over the meal and the bran; but he has his companion， too， and she calls herself ‘Mother.’ She is the very heart of me. She does not run about stupidly and awkwardly， for she knows what she wants， she knows what she can do， she’s as soft as a zephyr and as strong as a storm; she knows how to begin a thing carefully， and to have her own way. She is my soft temper， and the father is my hard one. They are two， and yet one; they each call the other ‘My half.’ These two have some little boys， young thoughts， that can grow. The little ones keep everything in order. When， lately， in my wisdom， I let the father and the boys examine my throat and the hole in my chest， to see what was going on there，—for something in me was out of order， and it’s well to examine one’s self，—the little ones made a tremendous noise. The youngest jumped up into my hat， and shouted so there that it tickled me. The little thoughts may grow—I know that very well; and out in the world thoughts come too， and not only of my kind， for as far as I can see， I cannot discern anything like myself; but the wingless houses， whose throats make no noise， have thoughts too， and these come to my thoughts， and make love to them， as it is called. It’s wonderful enough—yes， there are many wonderful things. Something has come over me， or into me，—something has changed in the mill-work. It seems as if the one half， the father， had altered， and had received a better temper and a more affectionate helpmate—so young and good， and yet the same， only more gentle and good through the course of time. What was bitter has passed away， and the whole is much more comfortable.