Good reason for not missing the obvious

Buddha has a delightfully sarcastic dialogue in which a poor soul shot by a poisoned arrow becomes intensely interested in all kinds of things about the arrow, the wood of which it was made, the kind of bow that shot it, what bird’s feathers winged it, even the complexion of the archer, was he dark or fair, anything and everything that touches it, however remotely. He keeps talking and thinking round and round about the arrow, and learns everything about it; - but never pulls it out and dies.

You tug it out, cries Buddha, before the poison soaks through your system. After that we can discuss it, but not till then.