Think only what concerns thee and thy being;
Dream not of other worlds, what creatures there
Live, in what state, condition or degree,
Contented that thus far hath been revealed
Not of earth only but of highest Heav’n. (8.174-8)

. . . but to know
That which before us lies in daily life,
Is the prime wisdom; what is more, is fume,
Or emptiness, or fond impertinence,
And renders us in things that most concern
Unpractised, unprepared, and still to seek. (8.192-7)

. . . but in these
I found not what methought I wanted still; (8.354-5)

. . . here passion first I felt,
Commotion strange, (8.530-1)

. . . Let it suffice thee that thou knows’t
Us happy, and without love no happiness. (8.620-1)

I prefer to be true to be true to myself, even at the hazard of incurring the ridicule of others, rather than to be false, and incur my own abhorrence.

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In the woods, we return to reason and faith. There I feel that nothing can befal [sic] me in life,—no disgrace, no calamity, (leaving me my eyes,) which nature cannot repair. Standing on the bare ground,—my head bathed by the blithe air, and uplifted into infinite space,—all egotism vanishes. I become a transparent eye-ball. I am nothing. I see all. The currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part or particle of God.

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We do have Prayers, you know, Prayers for forgiveness,
daughters of mighty Zeus . . . and they limp and halt,
they’re all wrinkled, drawn, they squint to the side,
can’t look you in the eyes, and always bent on duty,
trudging after Ruin, maddening, blinding Ruin.
But Ruin is strong and swift—
She outstrips them all by far, stealing a march,
leaping over the whole wide earth to bring mankind to grief.
And the Prayers trail after, trying to heal the wounds.
And then, if a man reveres these daughters of Zeus
as they draw near him, they will help him greatly
and listen to his appeals. But if one denies them,
turns them away, stiff-necked and harsh—off they go
to the son of Cronus, Zeus, and pray that Ruin
will strike the man down, crazed and blinded
until he’s paid the price.

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Eros once more limbslackener makes me shudder
sweetbitter irresistible creeping

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The shackles, therefore, which shall not be knocked off as the conclusion of this war, will remain on us long, will be made heavier and heavier, till our rights shall revive or expire in a convulsion.

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