we suppose it to have been. But the past and the future are, on the
whole, of less consequence than we think. Distance, which makes
objects look small to the outward eye, makes them look big to the eye
of thought. The present alone is true and actual; it is the only
time which possesses full reality, and our existence lies in it
exclusively. Therefore we should always be glad of it, and give it
the welcome it deserves, and enjoy every hour that is bearable by
its freedom from pain and annoyance with a full consciousness of its
value. We shall hardly be able to do this if we make a wry face over
the failure of our hopes in the past or over our anxiety for the
future. It is the height of folly to refuse the present hour of
happiness, or wantonly to spoil it by vexation at by-gones or
uneasiness about what is to come. There is a time, of course, for
forethought, nay, even for repentance; but when it is over let us
think of what is past as of something to which we have said farewell,
of necessity subduing our hearts--

[Greek: alla ta men protuchthai easomen achnumenoi per
tumhon eni staethessi philon damasntes hanankae],[1]

and of the future as of that which lies beyond our power, in the lap
of the gods--

[Greek: all aetoi men tauta theon en gounasi keitai.][2]

[Footnote 1: _Iliad_, xix, 65.]

[Footnote 2: _Ibid_, xvii, 514]

But in regard to the present let us remember Seneca's advice, and live