On recovering my senses, I hastened to quit a place where I hoped there was nothing further to detain me. I first filled my pockets with gold, then fastened the strings of the purse round my neck, and concealed it in my bosom.
In pain a new time is born.
In pain is a new time born.
Of what use were wings to a man fast bound in chains of iron?
Because it appears to me a hazardous thing to exchange my soul for my shadow.
What use would wings be to a man bound in iron fetters? They would only drive him to even greater despair.