The evils of mortals are manifold; nowhere is trouble of the same wing seen.
There is advantage in the wisdom won from pain.
Simple is the speech of truth.
On me the tempest falls. It does not make me tremble. O holy Mother Earth, O air and sun, behold me. I am wronged.
But I will place this carefully fed pig Within the crackling oven; and, I pray, What nicer dish can e'er be given to man.
But I must bear my destiny as best I can, knowing well that there is no resisting the strength of necessity.