Tuesday, November 1, 2011

On consolation.

"I am not trying to bring you ease and I do not seek to minimize the disaster you have suffered: if fate is conquered by tears, let us muster them to shed; let every day pass amid grief, let sleepless melancholy consume the night; let blows rain down on our bleeding chests and our very faces feel their violence, if it will serve our purpose, let grief practice every kind of savagery. But if not amount of wailing recalls the dead, if all distress is powerless to alter a fate that is unchangeable and fixed for ever, if death holds fast whatever it has carried away, let sorrow, which runs its course, cease." - Seneca