["As in Mount Algidus, the sturdy oak even from the axe itself
derives new vigour and life.”—­Horace, Od., iv. 4, 57.]

And as another says: 

“Non est, ut putas, virtus, pater,
Timere vitam; sed malis ingentibus
Obstare, nec se vertere, ac retro dare.”

["Father, ’tis no virtue to fear life, but to withstand great
misfortunes, nor turn back from them.”—­Seneca, Theb., i. 190.]

Or as this: 

“Rebus in adversis facile est contemnere mortem
Fortius ille facit, qui miser esse potest.”

     ["It is easy in adversity to despise death; but he acts more
     bravely, who can live wretched.”—­Martial, xi. 56, 15.]

’Tis cowardice, not virtue, to lie squat in a furrow, under a tomb, to evade the blows of fortune; virtue never stops nor goes out of her path, for the greatest storm that blows: 

                    “Si fractus illabatur orbis,
                    Impavidum ferient ruinae.”

     ["Should the world’s axis crack, the ruins will but crush
      a fearless head.”—­Horace, Od., iii. 3, 7.]

For the most part, the flying from other inconveniences brings us to this; nay, endeavouring to evade death, we often run into its very mouth: 

“Hic, rogo, non furor est, ne moriare, mori?”

["Tell me, is it not madness, that one should die for fear
of dying?”—­Martial, ii. 80, 2.]

like those who, from fear of a precipice, throw themselves headlong into it;

              “Multos in summa pericula misfit
               Venturi timor ipse mali:  fortissimus ille est,
               Qui promptus metuenda pati, si cominus instent,
               Et differre potest.”

["The fear of future ills often makes men run into extreme danger; he is truly brave who boldly dares withstand the mischiefs he apprehends, when they confront him and can be deferred.”  —­Lucan, vii. 104.]

“Usque adeo, mortis formidine, vitae
Percipit humanos odium, lucisque videndae,
Ut sibi consciscant moerenti pectore lethum
Obliti fontem curarum hunc esse timorem.”

["Death to that degree so frightens some men, that causing them to hate both life and light, they kill themselves, miserably forgetting that this same fear is the fountain of their cares.”  —­Lucretius, iii. 79.]

Plato, in his Laws, assigns an ignominious sepulture to him who has deprived his nearest and best friend, namely himself, of life and his destined course, being neither compelled so to do by public judgment, by any sad and inevitable accident of fortune, nor by any insupportable disgrace, but merely pushed on by cowardice and the imbecility of a timorous soul.  And the opinion that makes so little of life, is ridiculous; for it is our being, ’tis all we have.  Things of a nobler and more elevated being may, indeed, reproach ours; but it is against nature