12. As we become wiser we escape some of our instinctive destinies.
There is in us all sufficient desire for wisdom to transform into
consciousness most of the hazards of life. And all that has thus
been transformed can belong no more to the hostile powers. A sorrow
your soul has changed into sweetness, to indulgence or patient
smiles, is a sorrow that shall never return without spiritual
ornament; and a fault or defect you have looked in the face can harm
you no more, or even be harmful to others.

Instinct and destiny are for ever conferring together; they support
one another, and rove, hand in hand, round the man who is not on his
guard. And whoever is able to curb the blind force of instinct
within him, is able to curb the force of external destiny also. He
seems to create some kind of sanctuary, whose inviolability will be
in the degree of his wisdom and the consciousness he has acquired
becomes the centre of a circle of light, within which the passer-by
is secure from the caprice of fate. Had Jesus Christ or Socrates
dwelt in Agamemnon's palace among the Atrides, then had there been
no Oresteia; nor would Oedipus ever have dreamed of destroying his
sight if they had been tranquilly seated on the threshold of
Jocasta's abode. Fatality shrinks back abashed from the should that
has more than once conquered her; there are certain disasters she
dare not send forth when this soul is near; and the sage, as he
passes by, intervenes in numberless tragedies.

13. The mere presence of the sage suffices to paralyse destiny; and
of this we find proof in the fact that there exists scarce a drama
wherein a true sage appears; when such is the case, the event needs
must halt before reaching bloodshed and tears. Not only is there no