that you’ve been—to keep being mauled and degraded by the
life you’re living—is to be devoid of sense and much too
fond of life. Like those animal fighters at the games—torn
half to pieces, covered in blood and gore, and still pleading
to be held over till tomorrow... to be bitten and clawed
again.
Set sail, then, with this handful of epithets to guide you.
And steer a steady course, if you can. Like an emigrant to the
islands of the blest. And if you feel yourself adrift—as if
you’ve lost control—then hope for the best, and put in
somewhere where you can regain it. Or leave life altogether,
not in anger, but matter-of-factly, straightforwardly, without
arrogance, in the knowledge that you’ve at least done that
much with your life.
And as you try to keep these epithets in mind, it will help
you a great deal to keep the gods in mind as well. What they
want is not flattery, but for rational things to be like them.
For figs to do what figs were meant to do—and dogs, and
bees... and people.
- Operatics, combat and confusion. Sloth and servility.
Every day they blot out those sacred principles of yours—
which you daydream thoughtlessly about, or just let slide.
Your actions and perceptions need to aim: