No one else ruins things quite like this: they take what was whole and break it apart carelessly. Gold in the house was pure and lasting; the goldsmith spoiled it by fashioning ornaments. A moist, pure, dark seed: once handled, how can its original nature be found? One grain of wheat is turned into endless forms: porridge, milk-puddings, and sweet pastries. Says Tuka, poison is palatable to one; the cook ruins the butter.