Pleasant it is, when over a great sea the winds trouble the waters, to gaze from shore upon another's great tribulation: not because any man's troubles are a delectable joy, but because to perceive from what ills you are free yourself is pleasant.
What is food to one man may be fierce poison to others
Air, I should explain, becomes wind when it is agitated.
Things stand apart so far and differ, that What's food for one is poison for another.
We, peopling the void air, make gods to whom we impute the ills we ought to bear.
Victory puts us on a level with heaven.