I have not eaten the heart.
~~Ani, Papyrus: Book of the Dead
I will not eat my heart alone.
~~ Tennyson, In Memoriam
What shall we do then for food? "Shall the blessed Sun of heaven prove a micher and eat blackberries?" (Shakespeare, King Henry IV)
Life is a puzzle. Or, as Lewis Hyde wrote,
Cold winter night,
Little bugs on the firewood:
What are we to do?