Suppose That Men Kill Thee, Cut Thee

Remind Oneself Continually Of One Of Those Who Practiced Virtue In Days Gone By.

Reverence The Gods, And Help Men. Short Is Life.

"sweep Me Up And Send Me Where You Please." For There I Will Retain My Spirit, Tranquil And Content, As Long As It Can Feel And Act In Harmony With Its Own Nature. Is A Change Of Place Enough Reason For My Soul To Become Unhappy And Worn, For Me To Become Depressed, Humbled, Cowering, And Afraid? Can You Discover Any Reasons For This?

If It's In Your Control, Why Do You Do It? If It's In Someone Else's Control, Then Who Are You Blaming? Atoms? The Gods? Stupid Either Way. Blame No One. Set People Straight, If You Can. If Not, Just Repair The Damage.

This Is Moral Perfection: To Live Each Day As Though It Were The Last; To Be Tranquil, Sincere, Yet Not Indifferent To One's Fate.