I have watched men try to cure their wretchedness by pretending it does not exist. They speak of a sovereign good that makes one content with oneself, yet they advise suicide when the world fails to please them. This is a contradiction born of pride. They would rather be gods than men, and when they cannot achieve this impossible height, they call themselves fools. I saw this in those who walk through life with rigid faces, avoiding the truth that we are but reeds trembling in the wind. They seek a calm that belongs only to death, while ignoring the fire that burns within their own souls.

I ask you, do not hide from your condition by playing games of logic or stoic detachment. Acknowledge the horror of your state, for it is only there that you may find greatness. Do not pretend to be above suffering; admit you are a creature who needs God and needs mercy. If you cannot bear the weight of your own mind, why do you refuse to lift it up?