Glory - once achieved, what is it worth?

I have decided not to oppose anyone ever again, since I have noticed that I always end by resembling my latest enemy.

Wisdom disguises our wounds; it teaches us how to bleed in secret.

A distant enemy is always preferable to one at the gate.

To want fame is to prefer dying scorned than forgotten.

How important can it be that I suffer and think? My presence in this world will disturb a few tranquil lives and will unsettle the unconscious and pleasant naiveté of others. Although I feel that my tragedy is the greatest in history - greater than the fall of empires - I am nevertheless aware of my total insignificance. I am absolutely persuaded that I am nothing in this universe; yet I feel that mine is the only real existence.

What does the future, that half of time, matter to the man who is infatuated with eternity?