Lives there the man with soul so dead as to disown the wish to merit the people's applause, and having uttered words worthy to be kept in cedar oil to latest times, to leave behind him rhymes that dread neither herrings nor frankincense.

He conquers who endures.

Nothing can be born of nothing; nothing can be resolved into nothing.

Out of nothing can come, and nothing can become nothing.

Oh, the cares of men! how much emptiness there is in human concerns!

He who conquers, endures.

Oh, what a void there is in things.