O my soul, my soul—you are mutilated helplessly by this blade of sorrow. Yet rise and bare your chest,face those who would attack you, be strong, give no ground.If you defeat them, do not brag like a loudmouth,If they beat you, don't run home and lie down to cry.Keep some measure in your joy—or in your sadness duringcrisis—that you may understand man's up-and-down life.
-Archilochos
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