We suffer--that we know, and that is all
Our knowledge. If we recklessly should strain
To sweep aside the solid rocks of pain,
Then would the domes of love and courage fall.


LXXII

But there is one who trembles at the touch
Of sorrow less than all of you, for he
Has got the care of no big treasury,
And with regard to wits not overmuch.


LXXIII

I think our world is not a place of rest,
But where a man may take his little ease,
Until the landlord whom he never sees
Gives that apartment to another guest.


LXXIV

Say that you come to life as 'twere a feast,
Prepared to pay whatever is the bill
Of death or tears or--surely, friend, you will
Not shrink at death, which is among the least?