Why should I deem myself to be a chisel, when I could be the artist?
O God, how lovely still is life!
The zeal of friends it is that razes me, And not the hate of enemies.
Virtue is no empty echo.
To the fool-king belongs the world.
No, no! I do nature injustice. She gave us inventive faculty, and set us naked, and helpless on the shore of this great ocean,--the world; swim those who can, the heavy may go to the bottom.