"What seems to be the matter?" said the doctor.
"I know what seems to be the trouble," said the patient. "I seem
to have a pain in the shoulder. But that's not the real trouble." "What is the
real trouble?" said the doctor.
"The real trouble is imagination."
The doctor examined his shoulder. "This shoulder is dislocated,"
he said. "That could hardly be called imaginary."
"No," said the patient. "I'm not such a fool as to waste time
imagining what is already real."
The doctor set his shoulder and said he could go home. "And
you're not going to treat my real ailment?"
"But you said you would not trouble to imagine what is real and
now you say that your real ailment is imaginary!"
"My imaginary ailment is real," said the patient, "but my real
ailment is imagination. That is why no one can cure me." And he left,