The vanity of human wishes is no secret to Horace, but life is not to
him "a soap-bubble which we blow out as long and as large as possible,
though each of us knows perfectly well it must sooner or later burst."
No, life may have its inevitable pains and its inevitable end, but it is
far more substantial in composition than a bubble. For those who possess
the secret of detecting and enjoying them, it contains solid goods in
abundance.
What is the secret?
The first step toward enjoyment of the human lot is acquiescence. Of
course existence has its evils and bitter end, but these are minimized
for the man who frankly faces them, and recognizes the futility of
struggling against the fact. How much better to endure whatever our lot
shall impose. Quintilius is dead: it is hard; but patience makes lighter
the ill that fate will not suffer us to correct.
And then, when we have once yielded, and have ceased to look upon
perfect happiness as a possibility, or upon any measure of happiness as
a right to be demanded, we are in position to take the second step;
namely, to make wise use of life's advantages:
M_id all thy hopes and all thy cares, mid all thy wraths and fears_,
T_hink every shining day that dawns the period to thy years_.
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