Apples and Oranges
"That doesn't make sense... it's comparing apples and oranges." Those words played in David's mind as he took the apple he'd packed out of his bag. "Apples and oranges" he thought.
As he turned the apple over on his hand, an irony struck him: "apples and oranges share a lot in common for us to use them as a cliche for poor comparisons." He smiled and chuckled, feeling clever. "They're both fruit", he thought, "they both have a skin, seeds, and a sugary pulp." But his smile faded and his brow furrowed as he conceded that apples and oranges do indeed have their differences. "They taste different, feel different, and give off a different sounds when you tap them. They obviously look very different..."
He stumped himself—but this only drew him deeper. "Are apples and oranges more similar, or more different?", he now wondered. He sat for a time, mentally dissecting the fruits, but he couldn't come up with an answer. "They both have seeds, but those seeds are obviously different. Each seed contains a DNA sequence that details how to grow each fruit, but those sequences themselves are different. Apples and oranges both fall from the sky, but they do so at difference speeds." Every similarity came with a difference.
He dropped it. His head came to rest looking downward at the leaves scattering the ground around his feet. Then a shadow swooped into view, broad and thick; he didn't need to look up to confirm a vulture cast it. He thought of birds, of flight, of physics, of the apple again, and then of Isaac Newton and his famous discovery: "he couldn't have found universal laws of motion that govern both apples and birds without first believing in a connectedness between them, as comes from their natures as objects made of matter, despite their many differences."
His thoughts cascaded—and then coalesced: "All the things of the world distinguish and connect themselves as far as we can hope to dissect them. All the good we have comes from searching for the latter."