Snail philosophy is sound only insofar as the common snail exists in a world that is quite slow, far slower than the world in which we live — and indeed, they do. Desiderata that arise in the inner world of a snail arise at a delay, and can only be brought to fruition at an even further remove in time, because, after all, the snail can only move at a snail's pace. Hence, for the snail, their philosophy is vital, and their acts so determinate. The important thing about a desire, not just as a wish nor an urge but, in a word, as a persisting thing — a gliding thing, like the snail — is exactly that: it is a constant. It is a measure of the living.
To conclude: desire is a garden-variety affair, which makes ever more dire this talk of powers.
But for the snail, however, these are paltry concerns.
What else can I say? It's a snail philosophy, after all. Escargot!
